


I Shot The Sheriff (But I Did Not Shoot The Deputy)

by Butterflyfish



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Masturbation, Police Officer Rick Grimes, Racism, Rickyl, Rickyl Writers' Group, Rickyl Writers' Group Songfic Challenge, Sexy Times, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Strong Language, Swearing, mild sex references, some homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-19 00:57:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12399825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterflyfish/pseuds/Butterflyfish
Summary: Rick Grimes is a cop who loses his partner and best friend in a shoot out.Daryl is a redneck with a heart of gold whose brother could do with reigning in.When these two souls meet they both wish it were under better circumstances, but their worlds collide in the most inopportune way.Can love conquer all?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on the title of the song, I shot the Sheriff by Eric Clapton. Loosely!  
> Songfic Challenge for the RWG. But I can't blame them for this. I'm sorry, for who I am and what I do. I'm a whumper, I'm afraid.  
> Also unbetad, all mistakes are mine.

"Shane!" Rick hissed, as his partner crept forward in the long grass. "Hey, get your ass back here!" This felt wrong, so wrong. Rick felt in his bones, something was about to go awry.

They'd been called to a chase in the middle of a quick break, a quick bite to eat. Five minutes rest. Not even that, and now...  
Shane had complained about his love life, he and Lori were not getting on. Rick had sighed and uhmmed and ahhhed in all the right places, but best friends or not, he was supposed to marry Lori, he was supposed to be the 2.4 kids and picket fences in the nice part of town. But he couldn't dwell on that. Not now. Not with that indescribable feeling of something off.

There, in the grass, the perp wasn't dead _he wasn't dead!_

"Gun! Gun! He has a gun! Shane!" Rick yelled this time, darting forward as the guns of the cops around him blazed into noisy life.

But it was too late, Shane had been too damned bold.

He'd been shot.

Rick watched the fucker run away, made a mental note of him. He would be easy to catch again, how many killers on the run in King county only had one arm? "Shane? Shane? Shane?" He held his friend, his partner, his brother, in his arms and all but shook him. A rose of blood began blooming on his chest. Where was his vest? It didn't matter, it would never matter.

Shane was on his way out. What the fuck was he going to tell Lori? How could he look at her and tell her he'd let this happen? He looked up again only when paramedics arrived, Pronouncing Shane dead at the scene.

Lori, Carl, Judith. Three more lives would be affected, and shit, Shane was dead in his arms and they didn't even know.

* * *

 Daryl had just sat down with a TV dinner when the door of the shack flew open, crashing into the wall and shaking the whole house. Merle always liked to make his presence known. He rolled his eyes and picked his tray up, ready to move out of the way of whatever drunken, drugged up, rampage his older brother was on now.

It was a Friday night, Daryl was slightly surprised to see Merle at all. Since leaving the military with one good arm and one almighty powerful stump, Merle was very rarely seen on the weekend, especially rare around 7, when he would normally be holding up some dark and dingy bar.

"Baby brother, I need you to do me a favour." Breathless and hasty, Merle didn't seem too bad, all things considered. "Big favour, man, I fucked up." Great. Daryl rolled his eyes and stood, returning the rapidly cooling food tray to the table.

"What'd ya do this time?" The ridiculous grin on Merle's face told Daryl everything he needed to know, but he listened to his older brother explain anyway. He wondered if he lived vicariously through Merle, he would never get away with half the things his brother managed to.

"Y'know that little preppy chick down at Hershel's? With the eyes?" Daryl nodded. Yeah, he knew, she was so out of place for this part of town, cute and lovely, with a spark in her that the cruel world hadn't yet extinguished. "Fancied herself a bit'a rough. So ol' Merle was helpin' her out," Merle imitated thrusting against the coffee table, putting Daryl right off his dinner. "We're right in the middle of it on the kitchen table when her damn husband's walked in."

"He follow you? He comin' here?" Daryl was instantly on edge, hating confrontation. Merle shook his head placing his hand on Daryl's shoulder.

"Nah, but anyone asks, anyone at all, Ya big bro was here, all night, all day long." Daryl narrowed his eyes at his brother.

"Why're ya so worried about some dick whose missus ya doin'?" If Daryl knew anything about Merle, he weren't a pussy, by any stretch of the imagination. He was a damned soldier, for christ's sake. It was unlike him, and it made Daryl suspicious that his brother was so rushed and concerned. He wondered what he'd really been up to, but lost the balls to ask.

"Her husband," Merle paused. "Ya gonna love this, bro, her husband is Philip Blake" Daryl's mouth fell open, and he tried to snap it closed but his bottom jaw dropped again. He stood there, catching flies. Philip Blake, The Governor, was a notorious son of a bitch, with more money than Daryl would ever be able to count. A real badass, a drug baron, not some wannabe like Merle. Shit. "Shut ya damn mouth n stop frettin', he barely saw me more'n my lily-white ass." Daryl shook his head, his mouth a thin straight line.

"I dunno, The Governor has his ways, Merle. Fuck!" He buried his hands in his hair and gripped them into fists "shit! Goddammit Merle! He has heavies. A fucking army." Daryl hitched a breath, frustrated. "Ya gotta stop acting like a kid and grow up, man. Ya gonna get us both killed!" Merle flapped a dismissive hand at his younger brother, which just frustrated Daryl more.

"Hey, bro, c'mon, man. Chill the hell out, always worryin' 'bout yaself. Ain't no one gonna come 'n get ya while I'm around." Daryl exhaled sharply through his nose, a dismissive huff of air. Merle was never around, though. Just like everyone else, he had his own shit to worry about and was never around for longer than he had to be.

"Negan's been askin' if ya comin' back." Daryl changed the subject, sometimes it was easier to avoid the argument all together. Negan was their boss, he ran a bike shop where Daryl and Merle were mechanics.

Were.

"Not while I'm gettin' Social, bro" Merle guffawed to himself.

"You were dishonourably discharged!" Another argument brewed. Daryl couldn't abide laziness, his brother, dad, mom, they were the epitome of that. Sometimes he wondered if he belonged in his own family at all.

"I lost my arm, man. Ya gonna deny me my right?" Daryl shook his head, grabbed his food tray, and left the room. Muttering quietly

"You're what's wrong with this country, man."

* * *

Rick sat outside Shane and Lori's house in a patrol car, his heart beating a thousand miles an hour, breath coming in short sharp gasps, steaming up the windshield.

"I know it's hard." His new partner, Michonne, sat beside him, and all he could think was that she was in Shane's seat, and she shouldn't be here with him. He ran a hand over his face, hardly surprised that it came away wet. It shouldn't be him, it shouldn't be her.  
It just shouldn't be. "Hey," Michonne said, "you're not on your own in this." Rick let out a humourless laugh.

"Never felt more so." He said seriously, looking again at the house, the beautiful wooden front door. What was she doing in there? Waiting for Shane to get off shift, preparing a meal? He took another deep breath.

"We wait much longer she's gonna wonder why we've been sitting here with the engine off for 20 minutes." Michonne was making too light of the situation. But she was right.

"You're right." He confirmed aloud.

"I always am." She said with a smile. Rick turned to her with narrow eyes. "You'll see." She said, opening the door, and now he had no choice. He had to break the news.

* * *

"Rick!" Lori's face lit up as she opened the door and she threw her arms around him, faltering as she crushed his hat in his hands between their bodies. Rick breathed her in, a soft and floral scent clung to her skin, and he had to remind himself why he was there. Lori pulled away and met Michonne's eyes, faltering again. "Oh my god. Is he..." she swallowed carefully "is he alive?" Rick took a watery breath, avoided her deep brown eyes, and shook his head slowly.

"I'm so sorry, Lori." He managed, "How?" She asked, trying so hard to keep a straight face. "There was a radio call that said that there was two suspects in a car, but there was a third... someone messed up, Lori. I...I messed up" Rick sniffed and tried to keep his composure. Lori nodded, he wasn't sure if it was her agreeing with him, or accepting this harsh reality. It struck him again that this should have been his wife, his house. It was so hard to hold that against Shane now he wasn't there.

"Oh God. How am I gonna tell Carl his father is dead?" Her voice cracked, and her hand covered her face.

"Hey, you won't have to do it alone, okay?" She nodded, blinking back her tears.

"Okay." They stood, not speaking, Michonne cleared her throat as the tension thickened.

"Look, we've got our absolute best sources on this." Rick nodded, thankful for Michonne suddenly.

"I am going to do everything in my power to catch the guy who did this, Lori. Everything." Michonne was nodding.

"We already have some leads. This won't go without comeuppance. He won't be allowed to do this again."

* * *

Daryl splashed water on his face and looked in the cracked and dirty mirror above the sink in the small and foul bathroom. He huffed at himself, at his grim reflection staring back him. Merle had almost convinced him he was under the radar, almost but not quite. Something was wrong. The day had literally gone from bad to worse and he couldn't shake the feeling that something had been off with Merle when he started telling his story. It was bad enough, a bike came back in at work, the wheel nuts had been loose and almost thrown the rider off in rush hour traffic. Daryl never did anything like that, never. But the trainee, an Asian kid called Glenn, had been going gooey eyed over the reception girl Maggie since he'd started. The paperwork had Daryl's scrawl on, he was in charge of the kid, he couldn't let that happen again.

"Sign ya own damn paperwork" he sneered at his reflection, "keep ya eyes on what ya doin' n save chasin' ass for yer own time." He grabbed a towel and dried his face, balling it up when he'd finished and chucking it in the sink.

That's how the day started and now it ended with Merle on the run. It didn't seem right, a beautiful blue sky kinda day had turned to shit in seconds. Now Negan was out for his blood, his reputation on the way to tatters in the biking community, and god only knew who was after Merle's.

Still. The weekend beckoned, and he was looking forward to getting good and drunk and forgetting the whole mess of Friday.

Chance would be a fine fucking thing.

He was about to climb into bed, nothing but his boxer briefs covering his ass, when the hammering at the door started. He rubbed his eyes and wondered if whoever it was would just leave, it was 2am and he was done with today. But the hammering began again and a voice called out roughly. Daryl didn't understand at first, and wondered if it was the governor braying for blood.

"Police, open up!" Shit. Daryl's heart sank. What the hell had Merle done now? He hadn't killed himself, at least, not yet. They wouldn't be hammering away if he were dead. He rolled his eyes and went to the door, if only to stop the damn noise. He threw it open and stood there half naked as the cop was raising his fist again, looking like he was so eager for an answer he might punch Daryl in the face.

"Help ya? It's 2am, ya wanna bang any louder?"

"Merle Dixon?" Daryl looked around the cops shoulder and saw the guy was alone. He shook his head slightly.

"Nah, he ain't here."

"My name is Rick Grimes with the Sheriff's department at King's County. Who are you?" Daryl narrowed his eyes and straightened up.

"Why? Why y'after Merle?" The cop swallowed carefully.

"Sir, I'd feel a lot more comfortable if you'd put some clothes on"

 


	2. Chapter 2

Rick hadn't married Lori because he was gay.

He guessed he'd always known, in some way or another, but at a high school dance, she'd said to him that he was at least a little bisexual, and he couldn't deny it. He'd been looking at their friend Morgan's ass half the night, she said, and she saw how he looked at Shane in his football get up. She'd laughed, said it was ok, but that it wasn't for her and she was sorry. She'd kissed him, one last time, and walked away. Just like that.

Since Lori there had been no more women. He wasn't sure if that was her fault or his, but a couple of men had hopped in and out of his life and he was comfortable with that now.

He was not comfortable with the hot, long haired, redneck in front him in nothing but tight, white, boxer-brief underwear. He didn't know what he expected at 2am on a Saturday morning, it wasn't this. The guy in front of him was his height, with the darkest blue eyes he'd ever seen. His hair sat on his shoulders, dark and luxurious, if a little messy. He swallowed hard. He had to keep it together, he thought, looking over the tattoos on the man's bare chest, trying very hard to keep his head and eyes 'up'.  
But it had been a while, and he was just a man.

"Sir, I'd feel a lot more comfortable if you'd put some clothes on." He managed in a tight throated voice that sounded nothing like himself. He caught himself staring hard at the redneck's arms, bulging muscles trying to burst through the skin as he folded his arms, tucking his thumbs against his chest.

"I'm his brother. There somethin' else I c'n help ya with or..?" the long haired guy shrugged and shook his head together. Rick swallowed again and dragged his line of sight to the man's narrowed eyes. He removed his hat and twirled it in his hands.

"May I come in, sir?" Merle's brother leaned forward, arms still crossed, and looked around outside quickly, then leant back in and nodded slightly, a single shallow backwards head tip.

"Yeah, make it quick. Don' want no one seein' ya here." He stepped back and Rick stepped inside, rolled his shoulders a little as the shack's occupier looked around outside again and shut the door.

"Sir do you know where your brother is?" Merle's brother laughed hunourlessly, a single syllabled huff through barely open lips.

"I know ya jus' doin' ya job, but ya makin' me nervous, keep callin' me sir. Name's Daryl, why y'afta Merle? He was here all day." Suddenly rick remembered why he was there, and no damn hick, bronze muscles or not, was going to stop him getting what he wanted. Justice. For Shane, for Lori, for Carl and Judith, and for himself.

"Isn't that Merle's bike outside?" Merle's brother shrugged his shoulders and jutted out his chin. Rick fought not to be taken in by the sharp cheekbones and small beauty mark on the guy's lip.

"Yeah, he took the truck." Ricks eyes narrowed, matching Daryl's.

"No truck on the system. Where's Merle, Daryl?"

* * *

The way the cop said his name had Daryl's heart skipping a beat.

 _Fuck_.

When he first opened the door he was suddenly all too aware of sky blue eyes all over his skin, and at first it hadn't been too bad, knowing he made the cop uncomfortable was always a bonus. Now, however, the man's demeanour had changed, and he'd gone from awestruck to angry as hell. He began questioning again if Merle really had been fucking the governor's wife that afternoon. Why the hell were the cops after him? And from just out of town too. Merle weren't the kind to shit on his own doorstep.

Well, not often.

"C'n I ask what this is about?" He asked dryly, his throat closing up as his faith in his brother began dropping rapidly. The cop huffed a frustrated sigh, but the corner of his mouth tuned up a little.

"This afternoon, at around 13:00 hours, a man matching your brother's description, shot and killed a sheriff's deputy." Daryl staggered back where he stood and fell into a ratty old arm chair with the stuffing hanging out in worn out places. His head span and his legs were weak.

"Nah." He managed quietly, Rick Grimes leaning forward to hear him better "I mean..." he looked up at the cop suddenly feeling two inches tall "Merle can be a dick 'n all, but he ain't no _cop_ killer." His voice sounded distant to his own ears. Rick reached in his pocket and held out a business card.

"Well, maybe we just need to exclude him. Got to admit, there aren't a lot of one armed men on the local database." Daryl looked at the proffered card and reached out, snatching it from the cop's outstretched hand. "Get him to give us a call." Rick said gently, pulling his hand back, returning to worrying his hat. There was an awkward silence, the air hanging heavy in that small shack, and the cop started to head for the door.

* * *

The thickness of the tension in the room had Rick wanting to move, though at first he couldn't. The air was viscous and he thought he might drown.

_God you're being ridiculous._

Eventually he forced his feet to move, but paused within reaching distance of the door handle, and turned back sharply, not sure what he was doing or even why.

"Or you." He said, feeling nervy and shaky, but not knowing why. Daryl Dixon's navy eyes raised from the spot on the floor where they'd fallen an age ago, and Rick felt a shiver chase down his spine.

"You think of anything, or you want someone to confide in, give me a call." He stopped short. Me? Us. Shit.

"Yeah." Daryl spat, "don't hold ya breath." Rick nodded, a single head dip, and let himself out of the Dixon home. He returned to his car on leaden legs, wondering why he had gone out there alone, why he hadn't taken everyone's advice and just gone home, booked some compassionate leave, and taken a break. Shane was gone. Chasing down a one armed bandit wasn't going to bring him back, and Rick needed time.

He started the patrol car and sighed heavily, heading back to his empty apartment, where nothing waited but an unwanted TV dinner, and a cold, empty bed.

* * *

Daryl was still waiting for his head to stop reeling when Merle finally staggered in to the house. He sat in the worn out old chair of their late father's and stared into space until the sun started to come up, and Merle had finally dragged his ass home. He flew across the room in a flash, grabbing Merle by the throat and shoving him against the door jamb with a strength he didn't even realise he had, Merle's current state clearly helping things along in Daryl's favour.

"What the fuck've ya done, Merle?" He hissed into his older brother's face, grimacing at the stench of spent whiskey on his breath.

"Woah, little bro,'" Merle held his hand up in surrender and chuckled. "I jus' been out havin' a drink with the boys, what's ya problem?" Daryl shoved Merle against the jamb again for good measure and then let him go.

"Had a damn cop here half the night askin' questions, _that's_ the damn problem. Sayin' ya killed a cop! Ya kill a cop Merle? Is that what ya do?" Daryl clenched his fists by his side, letting his fingernails bite into the skin of his palms to stop himself from knocking Merle on his ass. He'd only have to pay for it once Merle was sober and life was too short for that shit.

Maybe shorter now. Fuck.

"Hol' on, now, ya hold on jus' a minute. A cop?! I ain't shoot no fuckin' cop." Merle leant against the wall, holding himself up and steadying himself. Daryl was torn. He didn't know what to think or who to trust anymore. "Who...who was here, baby brother? Who been tellin' ya these nasty lies 'bout y'ole big brother Merle, hmm?" Merle stood straight but staggered black again. "Was it Negan? Cause... he jus'" Merle paused to burp, loudly, in Daryl's face. "He jus' upset cause his favourite Mechanic ain't come back." Daryl rolled his eyes and took him under the arm.

"We better get ya sat down before ya fall down." He muttered, quietly, all anger dissipated while he took on his role of Merle's carer. A role he took on whenever Merle was this drunk.

"Who was it?" Merle slurred, staggering against Daryl as Daryl dragged him towards the bedroom they shared. "Who tell ya I did that. I ain't done nothin'! I been drinkin' at Hershel's all night." Daryl shook his head.

"Afta ya fucked his best damn waitress? The Governor's wife? Fuck, Merle ya gone back to the scene of the crime!?" He wasn't going to get through to Merle this morning, he was off his face on Whiskey and who knew what all else. It'd have to wait, but he had no idea how much time they might have before that blue eyed boy came back again. Daryl shook the thoughts out of his head, climbed into his own bed, where had that come from? Blue eyed boy? The man who accused Merle of not only murder, but of cop killing, that's all he was. A cop, even if he did look at Daryl like he wanted lick ice cream off him.

Daryl smiled to himself, tried to pull it back but couldn't, a dirty cop, Dixon's didn't mess with lawmen.

Still, he found his hand reaching into his boxer briefs, as he imagined the way Officer Rick looked at him, and wondered about handcuffs, not for the first time in his life. He looked across at Merle's sleeping form, just to be sure, but history and experience taught him his brother's drunk ass didn't wake for shit. He closed his eyes and ran his hand over the head of his cock gently, feeling the smoothness of the skin there as his mind turned back to officer Rick Grimes, his sparkling silver blue eyes, and the handcuffs on his belt.

* * *

Rick got into his small apartment and headed straight for the shower. Being in the Dixon home had made him feel dirty, in more ways than one, and though every inch of him wanted to climb into bed and make the most of a few hours before dawn, his brain wouldn't allow it. So he ran the water, which clanged noisily in the pipes, and undressed folding his uniform carefully and resting it on the toilet seat. There was no where else for it to go.

As the water began to steam the noise quietened down, and he took a breath before ducking into the 2 foot square shower cubicle. He soaped up, eyes closed against the suds, and thought about Shane. He wondered how the kids were doing, what Lori had said to them, and if they'd call him like they often did. Uncle Rick was their favourite. He sighed sadly to himself, feeling the water prickle against the back of his neck. As he secretly expected, as he secretly hoped to be completely honest, he was thrust back to the shack, Daryl Dixon, brother of Merle, was smiling lopsidedly at him in the doorway, leaning against the jamb covered in peeling paint. Little flecks of it falling delicately and landing on his not inconsiderable shoulders. He ran a soapy hand over his hardening cock and already twitching balls, eyes still closed so he could clearly see the tanned skin on Daryl's biceps, the bulging muscles pushed to the surface as the redneck crossed his arms.

Rick groaned deep in the back of his throat as his imagination ran away with him. He thrust one hand forward and clung desperately to the tiles in front of him as he slowly stroked himself to the vision of Daryl, imagining the younger, more muscular man, running his big hands over Rick's bare skin, chasing his featherlight touch with his even softer lips, bristling goatee tickling where it touched. Oh. So. Softly.

Rick grunted again, deeper this time, jerking hard at his soapy dick, steadying hand fisted against the wall, hair hanging wet in his face as the shower abused his neck with relentless hot rain.

He caught his cum just in time, wanting to save himself the embarrassment of calling the super' to clear the jellied substance from his drains.

He didn't want to make that mistake again.

He rested now with his head against the cool tiles, and reached to stop the water. The pipes juddered noisily and then calm was restored. He breathed steadily, mouth open, eyes still closed, feeling a little ridiculous. Daryl was... what? Nothing, Merle Dixon's brother. The brother of the man he was pretty sure killed Shane. Rick opened his eyes, pushed from the wall, and cleaned himself up, wondering if he'd get any sleep just as a yawn wracked his body.

 


	3. Chapter 3

"Daryl?" Simon shoved Daryl hard in the shoulder, looking quizzical. "Wake up man, it's bourbon time." Daryl sighed, wondering why he'd come here tonight, back, again, at Hershel's, the noisiest, dirtiest bar in town with the prettiest waitresses and the nastiest of clientele. The place where Merle should be hiding from, but there he was, holding up the bar chatting away to Andrea, The Governor's supposed wife. He'd been thinking that over non stop for the last few hours. Merle wasn't that stupid, or was it bravado? Climbing straight back into the lap of the damned Devil just hours after stabbing him in the back. Simon was still waiting for an answer, and Daryl dipped his head in a shallow nod

"Yeah, a'ight, last one though, I might hit the road." Simon guffawed loudly.

"It's barely 10 o' clock, what's up with you?" Daryl shook his head. These were Merle's buddies, they wouldn't understand his worry. Shit he'd been tagging along with them since he was 12, but still, they weren't his friends. He was just Merle's kid brother. He had no friends of his own. Daryl forced a smile and shrugged his shoulders

"Sorry, man, was daydreamin' 'bout ya mom's tight ass." As expected, the bad joke got a laugh out of Simon, who punched Daryl's shoulder jovially and headed to the bar.

"Dude, seriously," Dwight, still at the table across from Daryl, leant forward and spoke in hushed tones. He always did, it was like he was always worried someone might hear him. "What's up with you? You're like a fucking corpse tonight." Daryl blew air out of his mouth, pursing his lips and went to reply, but as he opened his mouth the noise in the bar stopped, you could have heard a pin drop, and Daryl looked up to see what was happening.

The cop had walked in. Not a cop, not some cop the cop. Officer Rick Grimes. All blue eyes and curly dark hair. He was dressed in plain clothes but everyone in this bar, in this town, could sense a cop at 100 paces.

Rick was going to get himself killed pulling a stunt like this.

"Cops?" Dwight asked, the only guy in the whole place who had to ask. Daryl nodded. "Again?" Dwight wondered aloud and he caught Daryl's attention

"What ya mean 'again'?" He asked, eyes narrowed to slits and knowing exactly what Dwight was going to say before he did.

"They were in here last night. Asking after Merle." Daryl felt his face drop. Oh shit. Oh no.

"Merle was here last night" he said, unable to believe that two people were now lying about their whereabouts at any given opportunity. Not that the cop mattered to him, he reminded himself. Not at all. He was just a cop. The cop, whatever.

He sat back and watched, trying to be inconspicuous before wondering why he bothered. Everyone was watching Rick and his lady friend cautiously.  
Daryl chewed his lip. She was a cop, and even worse she was black. Rick was as dumb as Merle if he thought that was going to fly here at Hershel's. Sure, it was the 21st century everywhere else in the world, everywhere but there.

* * *

"You sure you wanna do this?" Rick asked Michonne for the hundredth time. He knew as well as anyone that this was going to be a hard day. People in these sorts of areas didn't take well to cops

"Do you think because I'm a woman I can't handle myself?" Rick smiled and shook his head.

"It's not that." Michonne looked at him with sharp eyes.

"What then?" And Rick sighed, finally relenting.

"Because you're a woman of colour. The people in that bar see the world in Black and white. I was here last night, they aren't a friendly bunch." Michonne laughed, actually laughed like it was a game.

"Rick, please. I have dealt with worse in my life than a bunch of racist pig-fucker, rednecks." Rick laughed again, shocked.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that reaction. I guess we'll be ok then." Michonne nodded and reached for the car door handle.

"Yes." She said bitterly. "I guess we will."

Rick expected the sudden silence as they walked in. It had happened the night before, too, when he walked in alone to listen for any clue as to Merle's whereabouts, listen for anyone mouthing off and boasting about what crimes they got up to. For anyone drinking to the two dead hicks from the fatal car chase, and to see, face to face, the fucker that killed his best friend.

Yeah, he expected it, but it was still as surprising the second time around. Uncomfortably he cleared his throat and ordered a drink, a bourbon, and a vodka for the lady. Michonne folded her lips into her mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. She made large round eyes at him and he just gave her a nod. He looked around himself, sweeping the room slowly, carefully, looking for anyone familiar, anyone on the edge of starting a fight, normal day to day cop stuff. Then he caught the dark blue eyes of Daryl Dixon watching him from the other side of the room, and though his heart stuttered, he kept his eyes moving, lighting on Daryl only a second longer than necessary.

Even so, his mind threw him an image of Daryl the night before and he felt his face grow warm.

He turned back to the bar as the local clientele realised he wasn't there to make arrests, and the usual noise began to filter back in, bringing the bar to life.

* * *

"Nah man, he was here for a bit but he left early. Him and Si." Dwight nodded as Simon came back to the table "ain't that right, Si?" Daryl's heart was pounding in his chest. Merle lied to him? Why? Simon plonked the drinks on the table, spilling Dwight's sloppily as he did so.

"Yup" Simon said, taking his seat next to Daryl. "We had some shit to do, left about 10." His face creased in a frown. "Why?" Daryl shook his head, there was no need for everyone to know Merle could be in a fuck load of trouble. He got up, downed his whiskey, and left the table without so much as a nod of thanks.

"Merle?" He stomped up to him, dripping his own brand of charm all over Andrea. He looked at Daryl with narrow eyes.

"What ya want?" He leaned in close to Daryl and whispered "I'm onto somethin' here, bro." Daryl rolled his eyes

"A word?" Merle gave in, excusing himself to the pretty blonde behind the bar. Outside it was clear he was impatient, and already drunk as a skunk.

"What's the matter with ya?" He asked gruffly.

"Where were ya last night Merle?" Merle frowned

"Here, I told ya!" Daryl shook his head, running his tongue over his teeth.

"Don't lie to me!" He was angry. He'd explained again about Rick that morning and Merle swore blind he was in the bar all night. Didn't mention a cop. Didn't mention nothing of any importance. "Are ya dealin' again?" He asked his older brother, and Merle hesitated before scoffing loudly. He started waving his arms around and Daryl knew his brother was lying through his teeth. "I can't believe this!" Daryl yelled "don't y'ever learn? Get caught with drugs once more and ya done, fuck!" Daryl kicked at a rock and sent it flying across the lot. He was so angry. "Don't ya get it? There's a cop in there!" He pointed at the bar, his voice a harsh, rough, whisper. "They want ya on suspicion'a murder. Murderin' a damn cop! N ya can't even be honest with me? Ya brother? I can't protect ya if I don't know what's really goin' on!" Merle snorted, a loud sound which echoed around the parked trucks and bikes.

"I don't need protection." He laughed "what ya gonna protect me from anyway, Darylina? Huh? Fuckin' shadows? I din't kill no cop, why ain't my word 'nuff for ya?" Daryl shook his head.

"Where were ya last night?" He asked again, finally looking Merle in the eye, hoping for something at least resembling honesty.  
He was sorely disappointed.

"Here, man, I told ya." Daryl nodded, dipping his hands deep into his pockets, and turned away without a word, headed for home. He turned off before he got there, hands still buried deep in his pants pockets, shoulders hunched over, face scowling. If he came across a cop right now he'd be questioned instantly.

Maybe Rick would drop by.

He huffed a puff of air out of his nose, laughing at himself for being so damn stupid. Hot cop was nothing when dead cop was casting a shadow over everything. He huffed again, reaching the lake near their home, and staring at the reflection of the moon in the dark water. Obviously all they had in Merle was his lack of two fully working upper limbs, otherwise those two cops at Hershel's would have been kitted out to the max, and would have arrested him there and then. No, they had a hunch and a dead pal, that was all.

So why was he so worried?

Because Merle was an ass, and Daryl tried to fight the notion, but he wouldn't put it passed him to do something that stupid.  
He headed for home. The moon weren't gonna solve his fucking problems, but a good night's rest might. He kicked at the gravel as he walked, too mentally exhausted to pick his own feet up.

He approached the trailer park with caution, a feeling in his chest of dark foreboding. He tried to shake it off as just the drink making him paranoid, but when he saw the car outside the shack his heart dropped into the region of his balls, and he couldn't seem to pick it back up. He walked passed the car without giving it a second glance, hoping it wasn't what he thought.

But of course it was.

He ascended the three steps towards his front door and Rick's voice called out. Shit.

"Daryl?"

"Hey," Daryl turned to Rick, now in plain clothes, and no hat to fiddle with but still hiding a gun on his person. Daryl could always tell by how people held themselves if they were carrying.

* * *

"Ya know well as I do, Merle ain't here." Rick nodded once as Daryl put his key in the lock. He narrowed his eyes slightly, fully expecting the defensive stance, the hunched up body language, but hating it all the same.

"Know where he was last night?" Daryl pushed the door open and shrugged his shoulders while shaking his head.

"Ya know as much as I do." He stepped into the shack, leaving the door open. Rick took it as an invitation and stepped in hesitantly as light flooded the small space. "Wanna beer?" Daryl asked him, and Rick was about to decline, he couldn't be seen to be social with a cop killers brother... "not on duty, right?" Daryl held a bottle out, and Rick saw himself taking it before he even made the decision that he would. Daryl popped the top off for him, and Rick noticed he left the top on the floor where it fell. Shit, there wasn't much point picking it up and stashing it in the over flowing garbage can anyway. "Merle told me he was at Hershel's last night. I since learned he weren't." Daryl shrugged again. "I can't help ya, Officer." A little shiver ran down Rick's back as Daryl took a swig from the neck of his beer, tipping his head back, stretching his long neck, and swallowing slowly, his Adam's apple bobbing up, and then down again. Condensation dropped from the bottle on to Daryl's slightly grubby, glisteningly sweaty, skin.

He took his own drink if only to cool himself off.

He'd never had a crush on a criminal's family member before, and boy was Merle a criminal. Petty shit mostly, that was why they hadn't brought him in. You couldn't arrest someone on the fact they only had one arm anymore.

That and he had no evidence. Not a jot.

"You don't have to worry." He said, taking another mouthful from the bottle. "I don't have anything on Merle." He shrugged a little, uncomfortable with the narrow, dark blue, eyes on him. "And I'm off duty for at least a week." He took a deep breath, unsure if he really meant to say what was going to come next. "The cop who got shot, he was my best friend. He was...Like a brother to me." Daryl looked away and took another gulp from his own bottle.

* * *

"I'm sorry, man." He said quietly. Shit. He was so nervous, standing here in his own home, leaning against the counter top in his filthy kitchen with a fucking cop.  
He could imagine how Rick felt, he felt Merle was slipping away day by day. He placed his beer on the counter top and turned to Rick, who also looked like he felt awkward.

"I should go." He said suddenly, and Daryl felt himself frown.

"Nah, man, at least finish ya beer first." Rick held the dark bottle up to the light, and Daryl saw he'd only drunk half. The cop smiled weakly at him, and took another sip. Watching Rick's lips on the bottle sent a coldness through him he tried to ignore. "Is this what they call fraternising with the enemy?" He asked with a sly smile, and Rick almost spat his beer all over, swallowing, and then laughing. Man that smile, that was something else. The way the cop's icy blue eyes crinkled at the corners, he felt himself biting his bottom lip, wondering what it would be like to bite Rick's.

"I don't think so," Rick said still smiling. "Not a cop today, remember?" Daryl nodded, throwing his own lopsided smile.

"Look," he straightened "Merle ain't the only one armed bandit in this town. I might know of someone who ain't even on ya radar." He grabbed himself another beer just as Rick put his own bottle down on the litter strewn table. "Another?" Daryl offered, but Rick was already shaking his head. Daryl was dismayed but didn't let it show.

"I should go, but if you're serious I'll give you my number." He pulled out his wallet, and from that a single card. "That's my personal cell." He held the slightly bent out of shape card to Daryl, who snatched it up without a thought.

"You bet" he said, instantly feeling like a dumbass. You bet? The fuck was that? Rick looked a little unsure, but nodded once, and saw himself out. As the door shut behind him Daryl hung his head.

You bet!?

He wrenched the lid from his beer and headed to what stood for a lounge in his dingy little hovel, you betcha.

Jesus Christ.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Rick slammed the door of his apartment and all but collapsed behind it.

What was he thinking? Daryl had been on his mind since the moment he left the trailer park. When had this stopped being about finding Shane's murderer? He rubbed his face with his hands and shook his head as though to clear it. Daryl had mentioned another crook with one arm. Why wouldn't someone like that be in the database? He dropped his hands from his face and straightened, starting up the dilapidated old laptop and heading to the kitchen for a beer. He'd got the taste for it tonight, and what he was about to do was probably highly illegal, so why not do it under the influence, too?

When he sat down, laptop on his knees, it was still warming up. He popped open his beer can and waited, planning breaking in to the police database, and maybe doing a check on Daryl. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of that before. He wasn't one to stalk, not usually, but something about that kid had him yearning for more information, and they had nothing on Merle, so what could it hurt?

The fans on the old equipment started up, blowing already hot air onto his legs. He sighed at how pathetic the whole thing was, the crap apartment, the slow laptop, and shit he wasn't even working right now. He necked half his beer in one hit, and logged into the king County database while trying not to think about what he was doing.

At 9am, when the buzzer at the front door went, he was still sitting there, laptop closed on his lap, table littlered with empty beer cans. He shoved the laptop to one side and got up, staggered, straightened, and headed for the door.

"Yeah?" He yelled into the speaker, and was surprised when Michonne's voice came back to him.

"Hey, can I come up?" He pressed the entrance key without a word, and staggered back to the table in the hope he could clear it before the shitty old elevator got her to his floor. His mind ran with the million reasons she could have turned up here. He'd been seen going into the trailer with Daryl, or he hadn't covered his tracks enough in his search on Daryl. His heart did a little jump in his chest, remembering what he had found out. The poor guy had had quite a childhood. Suspected neglect and abuse from both parents, and not a damn thing done by the city. He just got lost in the system like so many others. Surprisingly there were no arrests, no petty theft, no misuse of drugs or alcohol, not even a drunk and disorderly. Considering how he lost his mother, setting herself on fire, albeit by accident...Compared to Merle's long list, it was more than a little shocking.

Michonne rapped sharply on the door, and he shut the empty cans in the kitchenette, pulling the door shut and wondering about his breath. Screw it, it wasn't like he was on duty.

"Michonne" he opened the door and offered her in, still wondering why she was there. She was dressed for her shift in the tan and brown uniform he'd been wearing for years, so she was obviously only stopping over shortly.

"Hey Rick." For her part she did her best to hide her disgust at the sight of him. He gave her a closed lipped smile.

"Can I help you?" She nodded sombrely,

"This leave of absence, Rick when you come back you can't be on the Walsh case." Rick flinched at that, at Michonne's choice of words. Sure his mind had been elsewhere, but 'the Walsh case'? Fuck, he'd stopped being Shane to them all already. Now he was a body, a cadaver, a case. "Sorry." Michonne tried a tight lipped smile "you're too close. We all know you And Shane were BFF." He frowned at her. "Best Friends forever" she explained "look, you were seen last night going into the Dixon home, and, you weren't working, you're not supposed to be investigating right now." She raised her eyebrows at him, but he didn't have the words to reply. Still reeling at Shane being nothing but a case number. "Take a break, Rick." She said, trying to catch his eye. "Take your time. It's ok not to be ok." Rick scratched the space between his eyebrows with his thumb before placing his hands in his hips.

"I need to know." He said, stiltedly. "I... I need to know if you find anything, any stuff, any thing you'll tell me, won't you?" Michonne backed away a little and he thought again of his breath, the booze, but she nodded firmly.

"Of course I will, Rick. Maybe you should call a friend, take some down time with a buddy or two." Rick scoffed quietly. Shane was his whole group of friends.

* * *

Daryl lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Merle hadn't come home. He looked across to his brother's bed, which was mussed up and empty, but not slept in. He huffed a sigh and threw the covers back, contemplated a shower but got dressed instead. He couldn't stay here wondering about Merle, that would only lead to madness anyway. He pulled his boots on and headed out the door, throwing his crossbow over his shoulder, thinking he might get a quick hunt in. That time on a Sunday half the trailer park would still be nursing hangovers, or wondering what the fuck they ended up doing the night before. The place was a hole, and he wished he had a way out.  
He snorted to himself, hitching his 'bow on his shoulder. Like that would ever happen. He barely earned enough to pay his damn way, weren't no way he could save up and get out.

He saw the way Rick looked around his home, not wanting to touch anything, scared to lean back on the work surface in case a rat crawled up his ass. Daryl sighed again. Stupid cop, trying to get in with him to get closer to his brother. That was unfair, especially as now 90% of his thoughts were of Rick's full bottom lip and expressive eyes, and not the whereabouts of Merle, which was backward.

He found some scat and thought about settling in for the morning, but he'd suddenly lost the will to hunt. He chewed his bottom lip, wondering what the Hell he was going to do with his day, now.

He turned, began to trudge home, trying not to tell himself he was going to get home and call Rick. No. Absolutely not. He should ring Merle and see where he is, and kick his ass for disappearing again.

So when he grabbed his cell, he was surprised to find himself digging in his pocket for Rick's card. He stared at it a long moment, considered ripping it in half, then dialled the damn number anyway.

"Hey" he said when Rick answered on the second ring. "It's Daryl." Rick sounded surprised, but not in a bad way. "Wanna talk to ya about that other guy I know. Can we meet?" Rick waited a beat before replying, and Daryl fully expected a flat refusal. After all, it was a criminal's brother trying to meet with a policeman, shit his first idea would be that it was a trap.

"Where?" Rick asked, and Daryl knew just the place.

As he put his cell back on the table he took a shaking breath. What the hell was he doing? He didn't have much time to dwell on that though, as Merle came flying in through the front door.

"Hey! You sonovva bitch!" He yelled, without so much as a hello. "The fuck ya doin' with a cop in my house, brother?" Daryl straightened up, squared up to his brother.

"Where ya been, Merle? Didn't come home all night? Got cops sniffin' 'round ya ass. What the hell's goin' on?" Merle sneered at Him.

"Ya had a cop. In. My. House." He said again, as if it was the worst slander Daryl could have come up with. "Ya know what I got in here? Huh? Half a fuckin' bag a uncut blow back there ya dumbass!" Daryl couldn't believe Merle's audacity.

"I'm the dumbass? Fuck, Merle! Why ya dealin' again? What the fuck is goin' on?" He put his hands to his head, shaking it gently before looking back up, pointing in Merle's face.

"I ain't the dumbass. Shit. Ya got dishonourably discharged from the army, ya been caught dealin' twice already, n ya at it again, n the cops have half an eye on ya for murdering a damn cop! Never heard of layin' low?" He stepped back, unable to believe his brother could be so stupid.

"I didn't kill no cop."

"N I'm supposed to believe that, when ya lyin' 'bout everythin' else?"

"Like what?" Merle spat angrily. Daryl jutted his chin a little.

"Where was ya last night?" Merle sighed,

"I was with Andrea"

"Bullshit." Daryl hissed. "Even you ain't stupid enough to go back to the Governor's wife," but Daryl's eyes widened as it all fell into place. "He's got you dealin'" it dawned on him, realisation coming slowly and smoothly. "He'll kill ya unless ya do his damn dirty work." Merle didn't reply, but stood defiant. Daryl shook his head and left the shack, slamming the door behind him hard enough to make the whole building shudder.

He got to Negan's, (whose business name was actually "Lucille's Lube and go" which Daryl had never fully understood) 20 minutes early. He unlocked the back doors where he demanded Rick enter, keeping suspicions to a minimum. You couldn't trust a soul in this town. Merle had been no where near home and he knew Rick had been there.

So he pushed the yard doors open and sat waiting in his service bay, the one nearest the back doors so he could nip out and smoke at his leisure. When Rick arrived Daryl was about to give up.

"Ya park down the street?" He asked gruffly, standing as Rick walked tentatively into the workshop. He nodded

"Two blocks, as requested. You're a pretty private guy." Daryl nodded once,

"Dunno 'bout pretty." He huffed seriously, and felt a little warmth spread through him when Rick smirked at that. "Ya want coffee? It tastes like shit but it's all we got. No beer here." Rick shook his head. Daryl chewed his lip, wondering why he'd got the guy here, in the dark and lonely workshop, surrounded by grease and metal.

"So this guy?" Rick asked him, and Daryl suddenly remembered. This was purely business.

"Look, ya didn't hear from me, ok? This can't come back, my brother would kill me." Rick raised an eyebrow and it struck Daryl as comical. "Not literally, man, c'mon." Rick let his eyebrow drop in stages, and Daryl suddenly realised he was gazing at the other man's face. Shit. What was he saying? "There's a whole lotta vets in these parts, n they know how to lay low. Ya got Hershel, who er, owns Hershel's" Daryl stopped and cursed himself in his head. Obviously, ya dick. "He's got one leg, 's'why he ain't there often no more, too hard to get around. N there's Merle with his arm. Philip Blake's only got one eye:-" he stopped suddenly as Rick almost darted forward.

"The governor? You... you know the governor?" Daryl frowned.

"Nah, not really, sorta.." he stumbled over his words, thinking maybe he'd said too much. "I don't have no dealin's with him, man, I jus', I know people that do." Rick nodded, but his diamond like eyes were suspicious. It gave his face a whole new look, one Daryl found far too intriguing. 

The Governor had always been this entity, a myth and a legend. Daryl had never met him, hoped he wouldn't ever have a chance to, truth be told. He was the bogeyman, the creature in the closet. Even the police hadn't managed to catch up to him.

"Go on" Rick said, absently, his eyes far away. Daryl sucked his lower lip between his teeth, not sure if he should.

"Well, there's Mitch. I dunno his last name, but he left his arm and his bro, Pete, in Helmand. He came back pretty missed up." Rick sighed and nodded.

"Most people did." He said quietly, and Daryl looked around the workshop as he tried to think who all else here was. He thought the cop killer could be Mitch, only now he wasn't sure if he was telling Rick for his brother's sake or for Rick's. It hit him how messed up this was, a Dixon and a cop, consorting, and he'd never been a grass before. He just hadn't wanted the hassle of it. Now he was a grass, and he felt like a cheat and an ass all at the same time. "Mitch." Rick said quietly. "As in Mitchell?" Daryl nodded absently, he wasn't really sure. He was just Mitch. Merle and Daryl knew him from way back when he and his somewhat nicer little brother used to hang out at the trailer park.

"He lost his whole arm too, not just his hand." Daryl said, thinking about Pete, still. The first guy to show him that men could feel just as good as women, better even. Pete was a good guy. There weren't many of them around that small part of town. Probably why he got himself killed. Good people always got themselves killed. "Look man, I said 'nuff." He was starting to feel real shitty going behind Merle's back, and sure he might be saving his ass, but when did Merle ever appreciate help? That, and he found himself looking at Ricks mouth, over and over. Every time he turned away he looked back to that full bottom lip. Caught himself wondering how that beard might feel against his bare ass, or even velcroed into his own facial hair.

And he couldn't be thinking of a cop that way. He shouldn't. Especially one who had his brother pegged for murder. "Maybe ya should leave, take what I told ya n go, maybe don't bother comin' back."

* * *

Rick frowned, jolted from his own daydream by Daryl's words.

He'd been looking at the guy's neck again, wondering about the salty taste of the Daryl's skin on his lips. This was ridiculous, he decided, thrust back into reality by Daryl's rough voice. This was, impossible. He was clearly crushing so hard on this Dixon because he was missing Shane. There was no other reason.

"Daryl..." he started, but Daryl wasn't interested, and though Rick knew the redneck kept looking at his mouth, surely he wouldn't want to associate with a cop, no more than he already had. Or was he pushing him away for another reason? After all Rick had read, wouldn't it make perfect sense that he'd push away the one person he was becoming close too? But that was also stupid, they found each other because Rick wanted to question his elusive brother about murder, if Daryl was thinking about him the way he thought about Daryl...

But he wasn't. _Shit, Rick, let it go_.

"Hey, man I said go." Daryl waved an arm at him, towards the open doors onto the yard. "I'm sorry 'bout ya deputy, but ya gotta go, it's too much, now." Rick didn't move, stunned and suddenly glued to the spot. Watching spittle flying from Daryl with his anger, wondering what it would be like to have his lips locked against that harsh, rough, dirty mouth. His own mouth ran dry, and Daryl was suddenly in his face, yelling at him to leave and he couldn't move, his feet glued to the sticky, oily floor beneath him. Daryl's words all merged together, a stream of expletives, and Rick placed the palm of his hands on the other man's not inconsiderable solid chest, held him back a little, and watched, mesmerised, as his mouth moved.

* * *

Daryl stopped talking, as suddenly as he lost his temper he seemed to regain it again, breathing hard and staring into Rick's crystal clear, sky blue, eyes.

Fuck.

The man was touching him. And they breathed in unison, holding eye contact and, shit, it didn't even feel the slightest bit awkward.

Suddenly, they were kissing. Lips crashing against each other's as Daryl pushed Rick against a tool box on wheels by the wall, which rolled on its castors into the render with a bang. Rick's hands were still crushed between them, and Daryl wrapped his hand in Ricks hair and wrenched their faces apart.

"Just go." He said breathlessly, darkly, stepping back and feeling foolish. Who did he think he was, grabbing hold of a cop that way? Grabbing hold and forcing himself on anyone shouldn't have been on his radar. Rick left, he straightened and walked out without a word, and Daryl felt guilty as hell for doing what he did. Pushing him into the tool chest like that was going to leave bruises. It wasn't how Daryl had wanted any of it to go at all.

* * *

Rick sat in his car, thinking perhaps he should be driving home, cranking up the laptop, and investigating the list of names Daryl had given him. Instead he sat with two fingers on his lips, still swollen from the roughness of Daryl's kiss. He thought about texting, just a simple apology, but he stuffed that idea straight back where it belonged in the dark confines of his mind. He should be thinking of the leads he had now, the names, the possibility of finding his best friend's killer.

But no.

What was going on with him just lately, he didn't know, did he want to? God that man's kiss had been rough, though the lips softer than he had expected, and walking all the way back to the car had been a nightmare with his cock pressing against the fly of his jeans like it might make some kind of inappropriate escape.

Fuck.  
Why was he even still meeting with Daryl, after Merle had been all but struck from heir list of suspects, when, in fact, he wasn't even on the job any more?

He started his beaten up old Honda, vowing he'd leave Daryl well enough alone.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Daryl pulled his bike into the little trailer park village he called home and sighed heavily to himself. He didn't know what kind of game he thought he was playing but it had to stop. Since meeting Rick he hadn't been able to get him off his mind, and that was all kinds of wrong. With Merle the way he was, screwing around with a cop shouldn't have been an option.

He noticed a whole group of trucks and bikes parked haphazard around the shack he shared with his brother, and frowned a little. They never came here, the gang, always a bar or some dingy ass strip club. He parked, but kept the engine running, unsure and suspicious. The door opened, and Merle stood blocking all the light from inside and casting a creepy shadow over what served as a garden, a trash strewed lawn of crap grass. Daryl looked at him carefully, and when Merle made the hand motion that he turn the key and cut the engine, he did.

Merle stepped heavily down the few rickety steps from the trailer, and behind him came a string of people. All familiar, all Merle's drinking buddies. Daryl climbed from the bike and stood as straight as he dare.

"Now, boy, I can accept that you're queer," any sentence that started that way was bound to be bad, and Merle's friends had now formed a rough circle around Daryl, whose nerves were up, heart racing, having every idea what was about to come.

"Why'd'ya say it like it's a dirty word? I'm gay, I'm not about to bend ya over and screw ya ass, Y'ain't my type." Daryl countered straight faced. Merle chuckled a little, looking at the floor and shaking his head.

"It's perverted, but I let it go cause ya my brother, the baby, don't know no better." He looked up, squaring up to Daryl with his head held high. "But I sure as all Hell am not gonna let my little bro' go cavortin' with a damn cop!" Daryl flinched. Shit. Why did Merle have to shout so the whole damn park could hear? "'Specially not a cop who wants my blood!" Daryl took a step back as Merle took one closer to him, but hands behind him pushed him forward again, and Merle circled him like a tiger toying with its food.

"It ain't like that." Daryl said, far too quickly, and cursed himself "he ain't afta ya, they ain't got nothin' on ya."

"They?" Merle said with a mock confused face, and all around him, people who would normally have his back, were laughing. "They!" Merle shouted again, and behind him Simon said

"Shit, I heard of a pig sticker, but fuck, Dare!" More laughing. Daryl rolled his eyes, put his fists up, ready to fight the lot of them, he had no choice, encircled as he was.

Shit.

The first punch came from Merle, a left hooker straight into the soft fleshy part of his guts under his ribs, winding him instantly. He staggered backward, bent almost double, and another fist came upper cutting into his jaw, sprawling him flat on his back.

After a while he couldn't feel them. He went to the place deep inside him where he hid when Daddy had been drinking, and he felt nothing.

"He's usin' ya to get to me, ya know that right?" Merle called from the living room into the bathroom where Daryl tended to his bruised ribs. They were sore, but he'd survive. It was Sunday night though, and Negan was gonna be in one hell of a strop when Daryl turned up to work with a black eye.

"Ain't like that." Daryl said quietly.

"Hey, when ya come back in here ya get me a beer!" Daryl rolled his eyes, threw on his tshirt with a grimace of pain, and stormed up to his brother.

"Get ya own damn beer you cowardly prick!" Merle stared up at him flabbergasted.

"Hey!"

"Can't beat up ya brother on ya own so ya get half the world involved. That's cowardly. It ain't strong or clever to have everyone else fight ya battles for ya." Merle rolled his eyes, made a noise that sounded like 'here we go'.

"I did that, _we_ did that, cause we _care_ 'bout ya" Daryl scoffed a harsh laugh.

"I heard that before. Ain't ya growin' up to be like daddy!?" He opened the front door and stormed out, hot tears on his cheeks he didn't want Merle to see. Not because he was ashamed, just because he was so angry and so frustrated with his brother, and the tears made him look like he was upset in a different way. He jumped on his bike, with no idea where he thought he might go, or how far he'd get with broken ribs. Weren't like he could go to hospital, they'd laugh him straight outta there.

* * *

Rick sat on his couch staring at his laptop, wondering if he was being too cocky, getting into the system once was one thing, something he could brush off, but twice? Three times with the stupid old battery dying on him like it had. It had taken him half hour to find the damn charger cable. He sat back against the moth eaten old sofa, staring at the error flashing at him.

_*not found*_

He found out who Daryl had been talking about. Mitch and Pete Dolgen. The latter had died in Afghanistan, the former coming back with one arm, just as Daryl had said.

_*not found*_

But Mitch wasn't in the system. Somehow he had got under the radar, and that was a cause for concern.

_*not found*_

He slammed the lap top closed and thought about bed, But getting up he heard a motorbike rolling by the apartment, and shit, that made him think about Daryl, the work shop, that kiss.

When the phone rang he jumped near enough out of his skin. He grabbed the receiver if only to stop the intrusive noise in his head.

"Yeah?" He said, the receiver to his ear.

"Uncle Rick?" Carl. His little lost voice brought Rick's whole world crashing down around him. He'd been so caught up in Daryl, and here was Shane's son, looking for comfort from the man who should be trying to find his dad's murderer, but wasn't, because he was selfish.

"Carl" Rick answered, sliding down the wall and sitting on the floor, the phone and receiver both on his hands. "Hey buddy."

"We haven't seen you, since dad... since... we haven't seen you." Carl said at length, with great difficulty. Rick nodded, knowing the boy couldn't see him.

"Yeah, yeah I know. I been... there's stuff, things, I need to do. For you, and your sister and your mom, you understand?" Silence. No. Carl was too young. As far as he was concerned Shane died and Rick might as well have gone right along with him. He took a deep breath, sighed, rubbed his eyes. "How about, we get together, huh? Me, you, Judith and mom. We'll have dinner, my treat." He heard the smile in Carl's voice, and could all but see it as the kid replied.

"Yeah, that'd be cool." Rick smiled right back.

"Ok. I'll call your mom, ok, tomorrow. But it's late, and you have school tomorrow."

"Yeah" the kid said, so damn talkative. Where was the little boy who wouldn't shut up? "Rick?"

"Yeah, kid."

"D'you think it hurt?" Rick frowned, not sure if Carl hadn't lost his mind a little. He'd understand if he had.

"What's that, Carl?" There was a watery sigh on the line before Carl spoke again.  
"When dad died. Do you think... do you think he felt it?" Rick couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. Tears welled and then spilled from his eyes unbidden and he opened his mouth to speak, finding he couldn't, but leaving the boy hanging on for an answer was unfair.

"I... no" he managed finally "no. He didn't feel a thing, Carl." He paused and the silence was too much. He cleared his throat "You know, you and Judith were all he ever talked about. He was so proud of you both." Rick put a hand to his mouth as his voice cracked under the strain of trying not to cry down the phone, and show any weakness that Carl could grab on to and worry about. "You go to bed. I'll call mom tomorrow, let her know."

"Ok. Love you uncle Rick." Rick smiled again, though his heart was shattered into a thousand pieces.

"And me, kiddo. G'night"

He sat with his ear to the phone for some time, as the dial tone came back, and then the stupid woman told him to hang up and try again.  
He'd neglected the family of his best friend in their hour of need. Because of a guy. He was the worst friend in the world.  
Another motorbike, maybe the same damn one, sped by again and he decided to get up and go to bed. Daryl may have sent some mixed signals but that final word had been very clear. Go. Get out.

Out of your own damn head and back into the real world would be a good start.

* * *

"What the fuck is wrong with your face, Daryl?" Negan, ever the man with a way with words, had come down to offer them all coffee, Monday morning ritual, and had seen Daryl's face instantly. He spoke curse words like a kid, with great joy and enthusiasm. "Jesus H fuck, you look shitty" he was grinning wide, intrigued. He gestured Daryl over to him, and all Daryl could do was oblige. "Holy shit, Daryl. You think you're gonna stand in here and converse with my customers looking like that? Nuh uh, not today friend." He slung an arm around Daryl's shoulders, to which Daryl took a sharp intake of breath, pain shivering through his chest. "Shit." Negan said solemnly. "You're my best mechanic, great with the customers, you know your shit." He removed his arm and clapped Daryl in the shoulder, and Daryl had no doubt he knew exactly how much that hurt, "Who did this to you, huh?" His voice was mock gentle, and Daryl knew when he was being told off.

God did that make him feel about 12 years old. Negan carried on, braying like a donkey, which was fair enough. Daryl had turned up to a professional establishment (despite the crack name) looking exactly how he felt, and he had no doubt Negan was about to send him packing.

"If your brother would turn up once in a while I'd send you home." Negan said with another harsh slap on Daryl's shoulder. "But he isn't, so until you look like Daryl again, or Merle turns the fuck up," Negan huffed a humourless laugh, "Glenn's the face of the workshop." He left the room, angry enough, despite his big grin, not to even offer them their usual Monday morning brew.

Daryl rolled his eyes and got to work on a Harley which had been in for over a week already with clutch issues.  
This whole Rick and Merle thing had got out of hand. He wasn't stupid enough to think Merle had done the right thing, but neither had he, and two wrongs not only didn't make shit right, they almost lost him his damn job.

He'd have to leave Rick as the one that got away, and if he never found out what Merle was really up to, perhaps that wasn't so bad. He was still convinced Merle wasn't a cop killer, 100%.

Or maybe 95. Or something like that.

But he'd been off lately, ruder, brasher than before, if that were possible. Staying out all night was one thing but not being seen until the following afternoon was new, and what was last night even about? Why did he care about some stupid ass man of the law sniffing around? It never bothered him before. Never. Merle always seemed to know just how far he could push before he got in real big trouble, but now he was a paranoid wreck at best.

Something wasn't sitting right, but he thought if he could keep his head down, maybe it would melt into background noise for just a while. He could do without another beating from the people he thought of as friends. Close as he ever got anyway. That hurt in more than just the physical sense. His stomach churned all day, an ache deep inside him that was more than just bruises and broken bones.

* * *

Rick had phoned Lori, and made arrangements to meet her and the kids. He'd checked in at the station, and gave Michonne all the new information he had while she lied to him about how things were going with Shane's case. They had no clue. Merle had come up as a dead end and though they hadn't yet brought a single person in, and had no other suspects, it was going well.

He had huffed, and laughed, and put down the phone at that.

He was aware enough to know he needed to grieve for his friend and partner, but he just felt like he didn't have the time. while he worried about that, everything was slipping away from him. Soon the trail would go cold, there would be no answer at all, Shane would be buried without justice, and that sucked. He understood why the force had taken him off the case, he could definitely see their point of view, but he also knew he had to be the best man for the job. Had they even looked at his write up of the incident? No one had seriously questioned him, and the only thing coming close to an interview he had had was a discussion with the shrink they hired every time one of the team had an issue. It was hard to be honest and open with someone who two weeks before you were chatting about your day to day with. She was no longer a third party, she was one of the team, family, and how could she confuse in his own family how he was feeling without bringing them down too?

There was one person he supposed he could talk to, one name that stood out, but Daryl was becoming more than a nameless face now, and the way he made Rick's groin ache, perhaps he wasn't it wasn't the best idea he ever had.

 His phone rang, making him jolt from his thoughts, sending him diving ob top of it as if it might be Daryl ringing his cell.

"Hello?"

"Rick." Michonne sounded breathless and excited. "We have something. We're going to bring Merle Dixon in for questioning."

Well, now he'd never have a chance with the younger Dixon, but this was good. He said so.

"Well, we don't think it's him, but he might give us a lead. I'll let you know." She paused for a long time, and Rick was about to fill the silence when she spoke again. "It's... it's pretty big. This is, years in the making, Rick." And with that she was gone, leaving Rick frowning at his phone in consternation. 


	6. Chapter 6

Daryl left work feeling more than just physically broken. He carefully got on his bike, hitching his breath as he tried to remember to breathe deeply. The last thing he needed to add to his broken ribs, busted cheek, and bruises was pneumonia from not breathing properly. It hurt like a bitch, even with the strappings he'd tightened around himself.

He sat with the bike rumbling underneath him for some time, not sure where he would go. He didn't know if he could face Merle without laying into him, and that would just get him more broken bones. He didn't drink on weeknights, so Hershel's would be a pointless jaunt three miles out of his way. He could just ride, but what was the point? It didn't clear his mind it just made him think, he'd realised that last night, riding and thinking himself in circles as he drove past the apartment building with Rick's beaten up old Honda outside. Twice.

He was such a loser, as if Rick was going to run out to him and flag him down.

He huffed miserably, and regretted it instantly, grimacing at the pain that spread through his chest. Maybe he should just ride to hospital, even if he waited six hours for someone to just send him home. It was better than sitting at home for six hours, waiting for Merle to come and kick his ass again.

"Later Daryl!" He heard over the engine, and he threw a hand up to Glenn and Maggie as they strolled to Maggie's car arm in arm. He rolled his eyes, he had better things to do than be jealous of a couple kids and young love. He kicked the bike into gear and rolled out of the yard slowly, still not sure where he was going when he turned for home.

He changed his mind just before the turning for the trailer park, instead pointing his bike towards Rick's place.  
Fuck it. If he was going to be miserable he could do it with something pretty to look at.

 

"Yeah" Rick answered the door buzzer feeling tired and out of sorts, he'd fallen asleep on his ratty old couch. Not working was so damn boring, all his body could do was drift off as he waited with nothing to do for nothing to happen.

"Hey, 's'me." Rick staggered back from the door buzzer, shocked. How did Daryl know where he lived? He reached forward and pushed the entry key in a daze.  
He scanned the small space behind him, worrying pathetically about the mess, even after seeing how Daryl lived. Something told him Daryl had tried and tried with their home, but gave up after getting no help from Merle. Still, it could be better.

Daryl tapped gently on the door and Rick threw it open, starting and faltering a little as he saw the state Daryl was in, but his mouth had already started running, and he had to finish his question.

"How'd you know where I live?" Daryl shrugged a little with a shake of his head, though it clearly pained him to do so.

"The sump on ya Japanese shit box is leechin' oil. I jus' followed the drips. The buzzer had ya name on." Daryl made it sound so obvious, Rick narrowed his eyes, the only facial expression that seemed to fit the situation. He was both impressed and perturbed.

"When?" Daryl sighed, visibly shrinking a little.

"Las' night." He said, burying his hands in his pockets and not looking Rick in the eye. Rick took the opportunity to look Daryl over as he stood in the doorway, looking at the floor. He wondered what the hell had happened to him, who would've attacked him. From what he knew of Daryl, he wasn't the type to ask for a fight.

"You wanna come in?" He asked finally, and Daryl shrugged again, making a noise that sounded like 'I dunno'. Rick gave him a nod, and walked away from the open door further into the apartment. He went to the fridge and got them both a beer, he came back the two steps from the kitchenette, and held the beer out to Daryl, just out of reach to coax him in. It worked, and Daryl stepped in, shutting the door behind him with a finality Rick wasn't entirely sure he was ok with.

"Don't drink on a week night" Daryl huffed, grabbing the beer but placing it on the coffee table. Rick felt his eyebrows shoot up, and lowered them again before Daryl noticed. He was judging him on how he looked, old fashioned stereotypes forcing his hand. "Wan'ed to apologise" Daryl said quietly, still avoiding Rick's eyes. Rick frowned, even though he knew Daryl wasn't looking.

"That's why you came?" Daryl shook his head.

"Nah. I dunno. Maybe, I guess." Rick thought about telling him of the Merle situation, but he found he couldn't bring himself to. He watched as Daryl stood awkward and uncomfortable, close to the door. He was a big guy, muscular and fit, but now he looked like he just wanted to be small, invisible. It was a different Daryl that knocked on his door compared to the one he first met on Friday. Rick liked this more vulnerable side to him.

"You don't need to apologise" Rick confirmed, watching Daryl's eyes as they skittered around the room, always managing to avoid his own.

"Damn near threw myself on ya." He sounded angry at himself, but Rick shrugged.

"It's ok. I didn't mind." Daryl looked at him then, for the first time since he arrived, and Rick was struck by the bruises around his eyes, dark and purple and ugly, making Daryl look tired and tough all at once. His navy blue eyes bore into Rick, and though they were narrow, there was no malice in them. Rick fancied he even saw a little hope in them, a little glimmer of want. He watched Daryl's Adam's apple as he swallowed hard, and then turned to look at the coffee table.

"Maybe I'll have that beer." Daryl said in an odd and strangled voice.

* * *

 

"Why are you here, Daryl?" Rick asked him again, as he peeled back the ring pull on the beer can and popped it open with a hiss and a fizz. Daryl took a long drink, liking how Rick's gaze followed his movements, and then shrugged his shoulders. What could he say? He had no where else to go. No where else he wanted to be. But that sounded stupid, so he said nothing. He licked beer off his lips and watched as Rick's eyes darted to his mouth, the man's jaw relaxed, lips slightly parted, and he had to look away. This was too much, he was going to get one or both of them in a whole lot of trouble if he kept watching Rick's mouth that way.

"Uh, don't you want to go home?" Rick's voice sounded like someone had squeezed all the air out of him.

"Nah. Ain't nothin' there for me. Look at me. This din't happen at work." He hated the look Rick's face took on, sad, and full of pity. "Hey, I ain't here for sympathy man." Daryl added, taking another gulp of beer to calm his nerves, noticing his own voice was wavering like a radio out of range. He didn't want Rick to think he was here for anything, really. He didn't even know why. It was somewhere to go with someone who didn't treat him like shit for a change. "This ain't a Booty call or nothin'" he added, not entirely sure why. He didn't want Rick to think he went chasing around after tail on a Monday night. Or any night. He frowned, his own confusion of the whole situation bogging his mind down. So what was this?  
Rick gave a little huff of a laugh.

"That's a shame" he said, and Daryl blinked twice.

"What?" He asked, looking for clarification. Rick stumbled then, hesitated and opened his mouth a couple of times before he spoke.

"Why don't you come in and sit down, standing around like this, feels kinda formal, don't you think?"  Daryl nodded, and waited for Rick to sit down before he did. Rick took an armchair, so he sat on the couch, not wanting to be too close or too far away at once.  
"I have dinner plans, tonight, but, like, I dunno if you wanted to meet up that'd be a fine idea" Daryl drank the last dregs of his beer, unable to look Rick in the eye.

"Like a date?" He asked roughly, his throat trying to close up on him. Rick shrugged, and Daryl found his narrow, sloping, shoulders intriguing. Rick was so slight, Daryl found himself wondering if he'd break him.

"Why not?" Rick replied, and Daryl nodded, once, placing his empty can on the coffee table and leaning back into the couch.

"A'ight" he replied, heart pounding. He'd never been in a date. This could be interesting. "It'll upset Merle, though." He finally looked at Rick and felt his mouth go suddenly dry again. The other man's diamond like sparkling eyes were on him steadily, and he wasn't sure what to make of that. Looking in his eyes, even from so far away, made Daryl want to kiss him again. Gentler this time, soft and deep and... he cleared his throat and sat forward again. "Merle thinks ya usin' me, to get closer to him."

* * *

 

Rick shook his head.  
"No. I'm on leave. Merle would think it's all about him." He considered again explaining the situation down at the station, the fact Merle might be dragged in, but didn't. He couldn't. He was finding it hard to think or speak at all. Daryl's dark eyes were so sombre and looking into him so deeply he feared the man could read his mind. Daryl shrugged, lifting and dropping a single large shoulder. Surely if anything happened between them Daryl would crush him. His wide shoulders, large hands.  
He cleared his own throat, and mirrored Daryl by sitting forward.

"You have my number. We'll arrange something, but... I'm sorry I have plans tonight. Are you ok to go home?" Daryl stood abruptly, about knocking the coffee table over as he did so.

"Yeah, a'course." It was all too fast, too sharp a reply, especially for the Daryl he'd come to know.

"You need me, anything, call me. I don't like knowing you're going back to Merle, already looking like that." Daryl shrugged again, with both shoulders this time, and Rick was awed again by the sheer width of him. He filled the room, ironic as he appeared to want to be hiding.

"I'm alright, Man, stop. Merle's harmless." Rick doubted that very much, but he stood and nodded, anyway, Daryl was clearly uncomfortable being scrutinised, so he left all the questions unasked.

They walked to the door, and Daryl tried to open it.

"Oh, uh." Rick reached under Daryl's arm and jiggled the lock "you have to...it's a bit stiff" he rolled his eyes at that, safe in the knowledge that Daryl couldn't see him do so. His chest was pressed into Daryl's back and he felt sweat stand out on his own skin at being so close. The door finally pulled in, coming ajar after a little tug, and Daryl turned without moving forward first, leaving the two men face to face barely an inch apart.

"I'll call ya, then." Daryl said softly, his eyes skipping from one to the other of Rick's. Rick opened his mouth to speak, unsure what he'd say, but no sound came. His brain had turned to mush and his legs felt like jello, and if Daryl didn't kiss him now he thought he might die. But Daryl lowered his head and took a step back, before turning and going on his way.  
Rick went to shut the door, feeling depleted and empty, but Daryl turned back to him.

"I c'n sort out that sump, if ya want. If not me someone should. Ain't safe as it is." Rick gave a shallow nod, and Daryl mirrored it. Rick shut the door gently and leaned his back against it, his heart in his throat and his legs wanting to give way.

* * *

 

Daryl was surprised to see a squad car outside the trailer, lights flashing, but no sirens on. All the doors had been left open, whoever left that car there had done so in a rush. The door to the trailer stood wide open, and as he killed the bike's engine he could hear commotion inside.

He carefully got off the bike and limped pathetically for the door, as the tension in his heart mounted, and the cell phone in his pocket began to vibrate against his leg.

* * *

 

Daryl didn't answer. Rick hoped that he had maybe gone to Hershel's, or was still in his way home. Michonne had called, literally as Daryl started his bike outside, and as a result he'd got straight on the phone for Daryl.  
He had dinner plans with Lori and the Walsh kids, but:- he cut off the answerphone woman and dialled again,

"Come on Daryl. Answer the damn phone!" He couldn't be there when the arrest was made, the damn kid had seen and experienced far too much, it could break him.

The answerphone cut in mid ring again and Rick shut off the phone.

 _Shit_.

He couldn't let the Walsh's down, not any more than he already had. He'd have to have faith that Michonne took in what he had said. The younger Dixon brother was more delicate than he seemed.

He stared at his cell, before sticking it in his pocket and grabbing his car keys. He had plans with the Walsh family, Rick needed to get his priorities straight. Daryl would have to wait. 


	7. Chapter 7

Daryl climbed the rickety old steps at a slower than normal pace, not sure if he wanted to know what was going on inside. Merle was shouting his mouth off, which wasn't unusual, but even so, the whole scene made him uneasy.

Merle wasn't fighting, he was just yelling, shouting about his right to remain silent, of all things, as he stood, cuffed tightly around both wrists despite his missing hand, as a male and female officer searched their tiny home.

"Daryl!" Merle shouted as he walked in. "Tell 'em man, tell 'em I ain't done nothin'!" Daryl narrowed his eyes, and kept quiet, until moments later a very familiar face went to march by him holding a shotgun in gloved hands. Daryl felt his mouth drop open, and snapped it shut again.

"Is that a Mossberg?" He asked, stunned. The officer nodded and turned to him, he almost fell down, staring into Andrea's face. "Andrea?!" She smiled a tight smile at him.

"Officer Harrison. I know you're going to have some questions, Mr. Dixon, but now is not the time." She marched past him, delicately taking her evidence with her. Daryl frowned and turned again to Merle.

"Merle! What the Hell is this?" Merle's eyes pleaded with him, but he had no idea what he could possibly do with three or four cops around the trailer park.

"I din't do nothin' Daryl, I swear to ya, I don't know where that gun came from." Andrea was in the doorway once more.

"Under your bed, Merle. That's where." She looked at her colleagues, and Daryl started trying to piece everything together.

Andrea had been undercover, and she'd obviously got into more than Merle's undershorts, but his head too. How long had this operation been going on? She'd been at Hershel's almost a damn year.

"I think we have enough" she said. "Let's get him registered at the station." Daryl frowned.

"I'm coming with ya."

"I'd advise against that." Andrea... Officer Harrison... said. Daryl shook his head as though to clear it. Suddenly he wondered if Rick had known about this, if he had been using Daryl after all.

"Call my lawyer" Merle said as he was dragged passed Daryl. Daryl almost stumbled on his already weak legs.

"Ya have a lawyer?" He frowned, unable to believe that shit for a second.

"Just call Simon. He'll know what to do." Daryl watched, unable to speak or move, as Merle was placed into the cop car, with two of the officers, as the other two got into an unmarked vehicle. He stood, dumbfounded, as they drove his brother to the station. He had no idea what they had him on. Drugs was his first thought, and wouldn't have surprised him in the slightest. But a shotgun? Arms? Why the hell did he need heavy guns?

And since when had Si been his fucking lawyer?

It struck him again that Rick might know what was going on, and he chewed his tongue as bitter anger began to boil his blood. But Merle was his first priority now, and he grabbed his cell to ring Simon.

He noticed the missed calls from Rick, and bypassed them with a sneer

* * *

 

"Rick?" Lori asked him "where'd you go?" She'd invited him in for coffee, and once the kids were safely tucked away they sat on the plush, expensive, couch together. Lori's house was way out in the nicest part of town, a small community, with picket fences and prize winning roses. It was so far removed from anything he thought Shane would end up with it was almost laughable.

"I'm here." Rick said, staring into his cup before downing the dregs of his freshly ground coffee. "I'm here." Lori pulled a face at him, placed a soft and gentle hand in his shoulder.

"You've been in and out all night. Is it anything I can help you with?" Rick shook his head.

"No. I wish you could."

"Is it a guy?" She asked suddenly, a light behind her eyes at the thought of some gossip, and Rick managed a small smile.

"Kind of" he said, hiding in his coffee cup. "Yeah and no. Have you headed anything from the station?" They'd managed to avoid the case all night, Rick and Lori both agreeing. It to bring it up around the kids, to just try and have a good time together. It had been one of the only things on his mind the whole time.

"No." Lori sighed resignedly "you?" Rick shrugged.

"There might be an arrest made, its a whole thing, but they think they found the guy, Lori, they think they might have a lead, at least." A small strangled noise escaped her beside him, and he turned in his seat to see her with her hand to her mouth, and tears in her eyes. He threw his arms around her, and she sobbed into his shoulder, relief obvious in every shake of her chest. Rick didn't feel half as relieved as he guessed he should have, with Daryl being so close to the guy they had the information on. He hoped Daryl wouldn't connect him with whatever was going down at the Dixon home, but he hadn't called back, and Rick had no doubt Daryl was going to be very angry with him.

But then Lori was turning her head slightly, her breath hot and sweet on his neck. She placed her lips against his skin and he jumped up, loosening her arms from his shoulders and standing so suddenly she almost collapsed into the void he left.

"No, Lori." He said, his voice shaking "that's not...I'm gay." Her hand was at her mouth again and her eyes above the delicate long fingers were wide in shock.

"I'm sorry." She said, her words muffled behind her palm. She shook her head slowly "oh god, Rick, I'm sorry." Rick gave her a single nod and grabbed his coffee cup. He headed or the kitchen, placing it by the dishwasher and coming back to the living room to find her now standing and waiting for him.

"Thank you, for tonight" she said, ending the evening and dissolving the moment they'd had almost as quickly as it started. "The kids had a great time, I did, too."

* * *

 

Daryl put his cell phone on the coffee table some time later, shaking, shocked, confused. The moment he mentioned Merle and the police, and all that he had managed to remember from the scene that had unraveled before his eyes like a nightmare, Simon changed. His slow careful speech had become clipped, instantly more professional, and when he explained to Daryl that he had passed the bar Daryl was sure this was some kind of dream.

_The bar_

Simon had a licence to practice law and Daryl's whole life had been a lie. Daryl stared at the cell, unable to finish a single thought without others crashing in, skewing everything again. What else was being hidden from him? His day to day of getting up and working all week, and chilling with these guys in Hershel's... He thought he knew these guys, Andrea, but he knew nothing. He rubbed his head, his face, then picked up the cell phone and launched it across the room. It hit the wall with a satisfying crack, and he stood, grabbing his bike keys, thinking one person would have at least some answers. Another cop. His new friend Rick Grimes.

He locked the door to the trailer which now also felt like a lie. It was tainted now, more than ever before, and he wondered if he'd return, or if he'd take his meagre savings and just go, find somewhere where people told the damn truth once in a while. This was fucked up. He started the bike, and sat looking around his home. The only place he'd ever known, wondering if he ever really knew it at all.

* * *

 

Rick was reading the report Michonne had sent him, risking her job in the process. It was a tough read, listing everything they knew about the Governor, and all his links to Merle Dixon. Included was a report by a special ops state cop called Andrea Harrison, whom Rick didn't know. She'd been undercover for over a year, from what he read.

This was big. He placed the report down and huffed a heavy sigh. This was bigger than anything he'd ever been involved in, and he was partially disappointed that he wasn't a part of it.

On the other side though, stood Daryl. Who Rick had no doubt was completely clueless to the whole thing. Merle was clever, but The Governor was shrewd, covering his tracks at every turn, building himself up to be this huge and omnipotent entity, a myth and legend in the eyes of all who whispered his stories behind their hands.

_Shit._

He almost expected the buzzer when it sounded. Harsh and aggressive it buzzed on and off several times. He pressed the button without a word.

* * *

 

Daryl hammered on the door, ignoring the pain that shook through him, broken bones would heal, he was sure of that, but the hollow in his very soul? He wasn't so sure about that. Right now that hollow was filled with anger, and he embraced it, owned it.  
He went to pound on the door again, but it flew inwards as he did, and there he stood.

_Rick Grimes._

"What'd ya do?!" He asked gruffly. Rick sighed and opened the door a little further.

"Come in. We need to talk." Daryl stormed passed Rick, almost barging him out of the way.

"Damn right we do. Ya got somethin' ya wanna tell me? Did you do this?" He grit his teeth tightly together, not wanting to lose his mind enough that he might lash out. Rick was his only friend, the only person who may have answers. Rick shook his head gently.

"No." He said quietly. Daryl reached out behind himself and slammed the door.

"If I found out different, i'mma fuckin' kill ya!" He cursed, and Rick visibly shrank away from him, making him feel bad.

"Daryl" Rick reached out his hands, palms out, a calming gesture which just made Daryl huff angrily. He didn't want to be calmed. "Daryl, you have to listen to me. I didn't know, not until after you left earlier."

* * *

 

Daryl paced the area in front of the door, looking like a caged animal. A hungry caged animal. Rick sighed and wondered how much he should say. On one hand, Daryl had a right to know, on the other it could be the end of everything. Everything he thought they could be, and could have, together, could be ruined.

"Everything I know is a lie." Daryl said through gritted teeth, and Rick watched him pace, back and forth, impressive shoulders hunched, hands fisting and unfisting at his sides.

"Yeah. I know." Rick answered sadly. He'd made a decision. If he cared about Daryl at all, he had to do the right thing. "Would you sit? I need I show you something." Daryl narrowed his eyes, but he stopped pacing. "I'd rather you sit." Rick tried again, thinking if he didn't start sitting, he'd certainly end up that way. He couldn't believe he was really going to show Daryl the report he'd been given, only passed to him because Shane was his best friend, and partner, and no other reason. But Merle was Daryl's brother. The brother that had lied to him and cheated him and treated him like shit, he deserved to know why.

Daryl glared at him through his greasy bangs, there was no hope or want in those eyes anymore, just a need for answers, for some truth.

Rick thought perhaps he would need comfort, too, but it was too much to hope for. Eventually Daryl moved through the tiny apartment and flung himself on the couch.

"I'm sittin', y'happy?" His voice was rough, pained, and rick tried not to feel too sorry for him. Daryl had mistaken his sympathy before, and now it might just wind him up further. He reached onto the coffee table, lifted his laptop and took the printed papers from beneath it. He held them out to Daryl, who looked at them as though they might burn his fingers if he touched them.

"Read." Rick said at length. "Just read it." Daryl looked at the report a moment longer, then snatched it from Rick's hand, crumpling the edges in his fist as he did so. Rick sat down, and waited.

* * *

 

One line stuck out to Daryl more than any single other thing in the report he held in his hands.

Not Andrea being a cop, he had made peace with that.

Not the fact that Philip Blake was some kind of pseudonym. He had already taken that as a given, what with his mythical like hold on the area.

Not even the fact that Merle's friends were a lot worse than he thought. Crime sprees, drug running, arms dealing. He could cope with all of that.

No.

What gave him most pause, and lit a fire of acid in his chest, was the fact that Merle Dixon was The Governor. What was even worse was that, now he thought about it, it made perfect sense. Merle Dixon was the head of a crime ring involved in everything from petty crime, right up into the realms of guns, drugs, and terrorism.

Merle Dixon, The Governor.

He cleared his throat, twice, before he tried to speak, and still he sounded like someone had their hands wrapped around his throat.

"Did he kill ya friend?" He asked, not looking up but sensing the confusion on Rick's face. He just stared at those papers, crunched up in his hand. Those papers which had ruined his mind tonight. He put them on the table, noticing how his hand shook.

"Indirectly." Rick said. A single word which could save Merle, indirectly meant no, right?

"It was what? An accident, then?" He dared to look up, and rick was giving his head a long slow shake.

"No." Rick sighed and tented his fingers in front of him. Daryl looked at those fingers, not caring to look at Rick's eyes, he couldn't bare to fall into a trap where he ended up not listening to what Rick was saying be ause those baby blues had entranced him. Rick sighed through his nose. "He, orchestrated it. Provided the weapons, provided the drugs that got them into the state they were in, and had them perform the burglary for him." He closed his eyes and scratched between his eyebrows with his thumb. Daryl stared at the floor. Orchestrated it. Merle had organised all of this.

"Merle couldn't organise a gang bang in a brothel." Rick sighed again, and Daryl leaned back on the couch. "It's, it's difficult to get my head 'round. This ain't the Merle I know" he pointed at the report. "This is, are ya sure it's him? There ain't another?" But he thought about Simon, and how he tuned professional fucking lawyer in two seconds flat when he heard of Merle's arrest. The report listed him as a henchman. One of Merle's right hand men. "Shit" he whispered. This was all insane, it must be a nightmare.


	8. Chapter 8

"Have you eaten?" Rick asked, carefully looking Daryl over, worrying him with his eyes. He was hunched, in pain, and now he came to thought of it, he didnt look like he'd had a decent meal in a week. Maybe more. Daryl shook his head slowly, but didn't answer, still glaring at the report on the table like he expected it to burst into flames. Rick sighed, not having much to work with here, but not really expecting more. "Well, I have but, I could throw something in the microwave for you, if you like." Daryl shook his head again

"Not hungry" Understandable. Completely understandable, but still, he should eat. 

"Well, what about some aspirin, then." Daryl looked up, finally, and nodded. Rick was struck by the gratefulness on Daryl's face, as if Rick wasnt the one to tell him all of his life had been a falsehood, as if Rick hadnt been the one to bring everything he knew crashing down around his ears.

"Yeah" Daryl said, "That'd be good. Hurts like a bitch" Rick walked the short distance to the kitchenette very slowly, not sure if Daryl meant his bruises or his damn heart, and decided to put some leftovers in the microwave anyway. If Daryl didn't eat them, at least he had tried.

 _None of this is what I expected_ , he thought, as he turned the dial on the ancient machine and it whirred noisily into life. He was expecting to be punched, yelled at, shot down in some way or another, Daryl cursing and breaking things in this small space until there were no words left, and perhaps he left in a huff or with a roar. This calmness was something else entirely. He knew Daryl was broken, after everything he read who wouldn't be? Rick was busted up just reading the damn notes. Beaten, harrangued, mother dead at a young age in a house fire.

"Ain't got a pot to piss in" He heard behind him, and he jumped slightly, startled that Daryl could creep up on him without his knowledge. He turned and Daryl was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, his thumbs poking out in front of his armpits.  He frowned, not sure what Daryl meant, and Daryl straightened, and shrugged his shoulders. "The trailer's rented, n Merle's on social, what with the arm." He shrugged again "How can he a gangland leader, n I hafta live in a damn rented hovel, with neighbours I don't fuckin' care about?" His face screamed everything he wasnt saying, which wasn't that it was impossible, he had seemed to come to terms with it very quickly, but more _how could my brother do this to me?_

"I'm sorry" Rick said, at a loss for anything else to say. He was sorry, very. Daryl deserved better, if his brother was a high up on the food chain as the evidence pointed at, Daryl should be living like a king. 

"Ain't on you" Daryl replied, shuffling his feet a little as he looked at them.

* * *

 Silence span out between them, long and heavy and dark. Daryl continued looking at the dirty floor, not knowing what else to say. He'd run out of energy very suddenly, everything gone in a single puff like he'd been punched in the guts. Like when Merle beat on him on the driveway. That was the moment his world had shattered, like thin and brittle glass, when he was curled on the floor, hands covering his head, and the similarities to his childhood did not escape him. That was the moment he realised that this life was not what he thought, and Merle was not the brother he had thought he was, had hoped he could be.

And now he stood in Rick's kitchen, even impossibly smaller than his own, and Rick was feeding him, offering him pain meds, wanting so desperately to look after him when his world had turned to dust. 

The microwave pinged aggressively, cutting through the silence and cutting his thoughts short. 

He frowned as Rick handed him a plate of what looked like casserole of some sort. He didn't take it straight away, but who the fuck else was going to look after him like this? he shouldnt knock it, and he shouldn't refuse it. 

So he took the hot pot, or whatever, and started to eat it there, where he stood, Rick watching him and making him uncomfortable. He was suddenly aware of how he held his fork, and how he ate so noisily. He hadn't realised how ravenous he was until he downed that first bite of beef and onions, gravy and carrots. It was divine. 

"You make this?" He asked, his mouth full. Rick smiled at him and shook his head.

"No. A woman comes and cooks once a week. Whole batches of stuff. Carol." Rick stopped talking, and Daryl waited for more, but nothing came. He ate his food, still standing, feeling awkward. Rick had more to say, he could feel it, but it was like he was scared to, so he watched as Daryl ate, and when he finished shovelling food, Rick took the plate and fork without a word and dumped them in the sink. Daryl followed him with his eyes, taking in the tightness of his jeans around his ass, and curve of his shoulders. He shifted his eyes away quickly, hoping Rick hadn't noticed.

This was insane, his brother was supposedly this Governor, and he was checking out some guys ass. He sighed and leant against the wall again, folding his arms, unsure why he couldn't focus on one problem at a time. 

Maybe because he hadn't had sex in months and Rick was showing him so much attention.   
He wondered if his hormones were so high that Rick could smell them. It'd explain why the other man kept staring at him, his eyes boring deep inside him.  
He suppressed a groan at that.

* * *

 

Rick chewed on the inside of his cheek gently. The thought of asking Daryl to stay going over in his mind. He'd almost said the words, several times, but kept stopping himself. He couldn't understand why he couldn't just bite the bullet, he wanted to offer him safety, why was that so hard?

_Because you find him attractive and you can't stop thinking that he's probably packing._

He pushed off the wall opposite Daryl and headed for his pitiful bathroom, grabbing the aspirin he'd almost forgotten about. Looking out for Daryl made him feel good, like he was, in some small way, making things better, lessening the blow of all the report held.

"You got somewhere to stay?" Rick asked finally, coming from the bathroom and handing over the pills, which Daryl popped in his mouth almost instantly. He shrugged, swallowed, popped another two, and jutted his chin up a little defensively.

"Gotta whole trailer to myself." Daryl gruffed, and Rick knew he'd said the wrong thing. 

"I didn't mean.. just stay on the couch, I don't think you should be alone."  Daryl chewed on his lip and Rick about lost his mind watching him work on it with his teeth.

"Got work in the mornin', I got, shit to sort out, man." He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away from the kitchen back towards the door. Rick's mind flew at a hundred miles an hour, looking for a way to make this happen. Daryl shouldn't be in that house.

"If your people think I'm in on this:-"

"My people?" Daryl took instant offence, and Rick backtracked, knowing he was speaking too fast, and not playing it cool enough.

"Your friends, your neighbours. You think you're sore now? Running around with a cop... it's not going to go back how it was."

* * *

 

Daryl moved away from Rick, finding solace closer to the door. His breath coming in short sharp bursts, hissing through his nostrils which he couldn't stop from flaring.

"Man, ya don't know how it is." How dare Rick assume anything about him? "I can't stay, Merle's an asshole, I know, but this?" He waved his arm as if taking in the whole room "ya mistaken. Ya've gotta be wrong." Rick shook his head, and Daryl felt hot tears threatening in his eyes.

"Daryl:-"

"No! No." Daryl felt himself pacing, his finger nails biting into his palms as he clenched his fists. He welcomed the pain in his hands. Anything to stay focussed and not find himself wishing he could stay. Because he wanted to, more than anything. But the kindness Rick had shown him was just another lie. Had to be. No one treated you like this for nothing, not in Daryl's experience.   
Merle was in a cell, and he was contemplating staying with the cop who might have had a hand in putting him there.

"None of this is real" he said aloud, not sure he had. The words sounded nothing like his own voice. The tears that had threatened now wet his face, and he hated the feeling, crying always made him feel weak.

"Don't leave." Rick said gently, moving toward him. "Not like this. Not because of this." Daryl sniffed noisily.

"Why'd he hafta leave again? Why's he always leave when I need him most?" He said quietly.  
Rick's body crashed against him, knocking the wind out of his sails, and he felt himself slump slightly as Ricks arms reached around him and held him. But he soon stiffened, all his muscles tensing, until he realised there was no malice, only comfort was offered by Rick's hug, and he heard himself sob, but that was ok. He wrapped his arms around Rick, too, and they held each other for a long while.

* * *

 

“You think this isn’t weird for me?” Rick stepped back as Daryl released his arms from around him. Daryl was refusing to look at him again, but that was fair. “Your brother may have had a hand in killing my best friend.” He swallowed noisily, a gulp of nothing but air that stuck in his throat and made it feel full, blocked, and hard to breathe. “And I’m standing here with you,” now Rick felt like crying, “and all I can think about is how sad you are, and how lonely you are.” He sniffed and stood straighter, his eyes still dry. “I know this is hard for you.” He ended softly, and finally Daryl’s dark blue eyes turned up and met his, “I know it is. But you aren’t alone.” Daryl huffed, a humourless smile on his lips.

“Never felt more alone.” He said quietly. “My world’s turned upside down. No one is who I thought they were.” Rick nodded, the lump in his throat growing until he thought he’d never be able to speak around it.

“I am.” He said solemnly. “Please,” He reached forward and took one of Daryl’s large hands in his, surprised and glad that Daryl didn’t try to drag his hand away from his touch. Rick rubbed his thumb across Daryl’s knuckles gently “stay.” Daryl nodded, facing the floor but looking up at Rick. The nod was jerky, like he was unsure, and his mouth moved as if he said ‘ok’ but no words came. Rick tried a smile, and Daryl pulled his hand away gently. “Couch is pretty old,” Rick turned away, knowing he was speaking far too loudly and overly confidently, like they hadn’t had a moment. “But it’s comfy enough. I’ll get you a blanket.”

“‘S’early,” Daryl said, still standing by the door like he might still try to run away from the kindness he seemed to take offence to. “Why don’t we, uh, stay up n talk some? I ain’t gonna sleep much, n Y’ain’t got work, right?” Rick huffed a small laugh at that, nodding his head. He beckoned Daryl into the living room, and took a seat on the armchair. He watched as Daryl moved around awkwardly, constantly looking like he had his eyes open for an exit, but he sat, and he seemed to get comfortable.

* * *

 

“D’ya think he’ll get bail?” It was a question Daryl had wanted to ask for a while, and now, a few hours into their evening, he felt comfortable enough to ask it knowing Rick probably wouldn’t laugh him off. Rick shrugged,

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Daryl felt himself nod as he mulled that over, not sure what it meant if Merle did or didn’t. “It’d be a high cost,” rick spread his hands out slightly, palm up, as if weighing the odds. “But Merle probably has money.” Daryl laughed humourlessly. _Coulda fooled me_ he thought to himself. There was still information he wasn’t sure of. Like, if Andrea were a cop, how’d Merle manage to get her into bed, unless that was just big man bravado. Or Andrea really wanted to catch her man.

And if Simon was a lawyer, when did he study? Daryl couldn’t remember a time he weren’t around except during the war.

Of course that might have been a lie.

Jesus, now he was in a worse place than before, he wished he could stop thinking himself in these tight circles. Trapping himself in dark corners of his mind he had no right to be looking in to. The whole thing was a mess, from Merle being more than an opportunist crook, right up to him being there in a cop’s apartment, shooting the shit and wondering what might happen if he let himself get drunk on cheap beer.

“I’mma hafta call in sick tomorra.” He said almost to himself. There was no way he could work safely with so much on his mind. “Shit,” he suddenly realised. “I smashed my damn cell.” Rick looked at him with a shrug.

“Was it insured?” Daryl narrowed his eyes at Rick, before snorting a laugh, apparently realising his error Rick laughed right along with him.

“What do you think will happen, if Merle gets bail?” Rick asked as their laughter petered out. Daryl shrugged. He didn’t want to think about that. Merle would be pissed, but he wasn’t stupid, but if he really was the governor. If he got caught it was because he meant to, and if he got out would he be stupid enough to orchestrate revenge?

He didn’t know.

“I don’t know” he said aloud. “I dunno if I wanna. He’s screwed me over one time too many.” They sat in an amiable silence as they both mulled that over, until Rick stood, all be it a bit wobbly, and announced he was going to bed.

They locked eyes, rick looking down, Daryl looking up, until Daryl stood, too.

He was also a little unsteady, but he ignored the vertigo, keeping his eyes on Rick’s, until Rick held out his hand.

Daryl stared at it a long moment, a lifetime. This was a big decision. The weight of his choice lay heavy on him before he made it.

He took Rick’s hand, and Rick led him to the apartment’s only bedroom. 


	9. Chapter 9

Merle sat in the passenger side of his own truck, which Simon had collected him in. 

He stank of the cell he’d been cooped up in, his drunk and disorderly cellmate passed out in a puddle of his own piss hadn’t helped that.

God he hated being locked up. But he’d made bail, alright, it was a five figure number, but he’d made it, and Simon being the right hand man every one should have, had come up with the bills.

God bless Simon.

God bless America.

And god bless that son of a bitch Philip Blake for popping his own clogs and passing the torch.

“How did you make bail when they had you for shooting a lawman?” Simon asked, and Merle shrugged his shoulders

“You’re the lawyer, you tell me” he replied with a smile. Simon shook his head, also grinning.

“You’re a lucky bastard, you know that? To make bail at all, with your record? Lucky.” Merle felt himself frown

“Ain’t no such thing as luck, my man. Karma, that’s what it is. I got me a little revenge to spread, n I can’t do it if I’m inside, now.” He shrugged again, large shoulders hefting up and down in the small space of the truck cab. “Ain’t got me for shootin’ no one, anyway. Got me on gun supply, n that fell to shit.” Simon raised a single eyebrow, and nodded as he backed the truck out of its parking space.

“Yep. I was there.”

“That little black bitch was mighty pissed I got outta there. They’ll pin me with anything they can now.” He stroked the stubble on his chin. “Might skip town for a while. Let the dust settle. They’ll forget, soon ‘nuff” Simon’s face said he wasn’t sure of that, he didn’t look sure of anything, but Merle ignored it. You could be the best lawyer in the world, didn’t make up for experience. That was something Merle had in droves. “Yeah, jus’ grab my little brother and get outta here.” Simon shook his head, face grim.

“Yeah?” He asked, as if he didn’t believe it for a second “wanna know what your little baby brother’s been up to all night?”

* * *

 

Daryl was wide awake, lying on his side with Rick’s arm draped carelessly over his waist. He hadn’t slept, not a minute, thoughts just ran through his head, the same few, over and over.

Merle was his brother, and always would be. No matter how great the night may have been there were no guarantees that Rick would be around for him again.

But then Merle always disappeared when he was needed the most. He sighed to himself forlornly, thinking it might be time to call Negan and explain he was sick, or something. He wouldn’t buy it, but after the day before, Daryl hardly felt welcome anyway.

He rolled into his back and Rick’s hand gripped him a little tighter. It was nice to feel wanted for a change, that much, at least, he did know. He felt strangely secure in that bed, Rick’s bed, Rick draped over him like an actual lover and not like a one night stand. If that had been the case Daryl would have left already, he’d done the midnight flit a few times before.

But still his mind returned to his brother. That son of a bitch was bound to already know Daryl hadn’t been home, his cronies were clearly spying, and what would that mean for him? What would come of him innocently seeking comfort in a man’s own home. If Rick wasn’t the law would this be any different? Would he feel differently this morning if he’d been just another jarhead from the trailer park?

So many questions, and not a damn answer in sight. He sighed loudly, just as the phone, which had an extension here, began to ring shrilly, ruining the quiet calm of the early morning. He wondered what the time was, just as Rick cut the noise off.

“Yeah?” Daryl smiled to himself, he answered the phone and the door buzzer the same way, like you’d interrupted him doing something very important. He started listening in, not only did it feel intrusive, but Rick was only making various grunts anyway, sleep addled with his face still half in his pillow.

After a short almost conversation he put the receiver back in the cradle, opened one eye and gave Daryl a sleepy grin.

“Good morning” he mumbled, no longer touching, looking like maybe he wanted to. “What time is it?” Daryl looked at the window, covered in thin curtains which didn’t keep out any light. He judged it to be about 7am. Rick groaned and rolled into his back. “Sounds like an early start when you’ve fuck all to do all day. Did you phone your boss yet?” Daryl grunted nonsensically.

“Nah, I broke my phone.” Rick gave a small laugh, bearing his teeth, eyes still closed. Daryl couldn’t help but smile along with him, that tired little grin was infectious.

“Oh. Yeah.” Rick straightened his face with what seemed to Daryl like a great effort. “You can use mine, if you know the number.” He did. He’d stored that into his memory with so much other useless shit he was surprised he could remember anything at all.

“Yeah, I know it. Look, man, maybe I should go.”

* * *

 

Rick sat up suddenly, Daryl’s words forcing the partial conversation he’d just had with Michonne into his sleep addled head. Sleepy fuzziness and the warmth of having Daryl still there in the morning wearing off.

“You can’t, I mean, you shouldn’t.” He said, very seriously. Daryl frowned at him, with something that looked like suspicion. “No” Rick didn’t want Daryl to think he was trying to keep him around. “Leave if you must, but don’t go home. That was my new partner on the phone, Merle’s made bail, fuck knows how, it was over 50 grand, but he did. He’s out there, no doubt looking for you and for me.” Unexpectedly, Daryl’s face didn’t say he didn’t care. He looked pensive, and eventually nodded.

“Ok. So what do we do?” Rick didn’t know, they couldn’t hide forever, and Merle had eyes everywhere, so in a very real way, they couldn’t hide at all.

“We could skip town.” Daryl narrowed his eyes, his face unreadable now, pinched so small. It was a stupid thing to say, not only did Rick have other priorities, including his old friend Lori and Shane’s kids, but we? They’d known each other all of five minutes.

But when you know, you know.

“Ain’t scared’a Merle.” Daryl said quietly, “Governor or not he’s jus’ Merle.” Rick was pleased Daryl didn’t seem to pick up on his mistake, marking them out as an item. He nodded thoughtfully. “It’s his lackeys ya wanna watch out for. The eyes n ears all over the damn town.” Daryl threw back the coverlet and stood, completely naked and uncaring, his back to Rick, who gladly took in the tight lines of his back, the very firm and smooth curve of his ass. A sigh may have escaped him, he hoped Daryl hadn’t heard it.

“Guess he didn’t kill ya friend.” Daryl was dressing now, much to Rick’s dismay. Rick shook his head.

“They can’t pin that on him, no.” He said carefully, sure he had already explained the arms deals that went down, the intelligence they had that Merle had been a catalyst. He didn’t say any of this out loud, he didn’t want Daryl to leave on bad terms. Shit, regardless of who his brother was or wasn’t, he wanted to be in a position to see him again.

* * *

 

Daryl was thinking about Merle. About Merle’s friends. Who would be sitting outside? He wondered, waiting for him to leave so they could shoot him in the back? He’d resigned himself to the obvious eventuality. He was fraternising with the enemy, adding what he knew about the governor to what he’d read about Merle, he no doubt would have it in his head that his arrest was down to Rick and his dead friend, and he’d want to rid that problem from his life.

Get rid of Daryl, get a good handle on that problem. It was all that had gone through his head all night. It made sense that Merle, who couldn’t even be honest with him, might turn against him. His loyalties were elsewhere now. He was no longer Daryl’s brother.  
He pulled his socks on, sitting on the edge of Rick’s bed, reflecting on his life. He’d had a good run really. He could have been riddled with disease, maybe rabid from the roadkill his daddy used to bring home. Or he could have got into drugs with Merle back when they were kids and got fucked up that way.

Or, he could have become one of Merle’s lackeys, one of the Governor’s henchmen. Many must have died in their duty.

Fuck, that was hard to think about.

But he’d give himself up for Rick, he decided. He’d walk out, turn himself over, and demand that Rick be left to live out his life, all be it constantly looking over his shoulder.

What amazed him the most was that Merle managed to hide his secret mafia don like life from him, all these years. Daryl really had never had a clue.

How many deaths he had under his belt was something he didn’t want to think about, so he pulled his boots on, one by one, slowing his pace to draw out his time with Rick.

He had never believed in fate, in love at first sight, but, good God he did now. How ironic that Rick could be ‘the one’.

He rolled his eyes, now fully dressed, he couldn’t eke this out any longer.

“I’ll give Negan a call. N then, we’ll, we’ll see, I guess.”

* * *

 

Rick couldn’t understand Daryl’s sudden despondency. It was disheartening, to say the least, but he accepted it at first, Wanting Daryl to call his boss before he suggested breakfast.

They’d have to go out though, but he knew a place where no one else went. A cop cafe, where they could eat and drink in peace, at least for the time being.

He couldn’t let Daryl go, because he had a feeling it would be the last thing he ever would do. He frowned to himself, still wrapped up in the blankets from the bed, considering dressing as Daryl left the room to make his call.

Part of him was a little nervous, which was ridiculous. As a cop he was supposed to have nerves of steel, be hard and unsympathetic. But that was what Shane brought to their partnership, and look how he ended up.

Would Merle be stupid enough to come after them so soon? He wanted to say no, but part of him also knew the Governor had a temper, and a thirst for revenge.   
There was no knowing.

He threw the covers off his body, now suddenly too hot, the blankets feeling heavy and stifling. He shouldn’t be worrying about Merle, there was a whole host of his men watching, no doubt, but Rick had his own team, and his team were always one step ahead.

Daryl came back in the room. He looked drawn, tired, and Rick questioned him with nothing but a look, only getting a gentle shake of the head in return.

“Was thinking we could grab some breakfast? I know a great place not far from here.” Daryl nodded as Rick got dressed just to avoid those sad dark eyes.

“Mmm” Daryl replied, nothing committing, which was fair enough given the circumstances.

“Everything ok?” Rick asked him, but again he got very little in return.

“Fine” Daryl said. “Let’s go.” Rick was barely dressed, and Daryl was already leaving the room.


	10. Chapter 10

Merle watched as his brother and the sleazebag who was using him came out of the scruffy apartment building in front of him.  
Sticking to the shadows he took a long draw on his cigarette, throwing the end on the floor and stabbing it out with his foot, before making a gun with his hand and pretending to shoot Rick Grimes, Sheriff Brown Pants, in He back of the head.  
“Boom.” He whispered, before slowly dropping his hand and walking away in to the darkness of the alley.

* * *

 

Daryl ducked into the doorway Rick held open for him. The place was a cop haunt, you could tell instantly, and as all eyes turned on him he felt it even more. He was scruffy, unshowered, wearing yesterday’s clothes. He felt so ridiculously out of place here, with its check table clothes and bright lights. He squinted around him, all eyes still taking him in. Rick gave the counter staff a nod and wave, smiling brightly, leading Daryl to a table away from the large plate-glass windows.

“Man, is this place real?” Rick had taken a token glance through the menu, while Daryl practically tried to his behind his. Rick laughed softly.

“Of course. It’s the first place I thought of you probably wouldn’t be seen.” Daryl nodded, and hummed a reply.

“It don’t matter. Merle’ll find me, wherever I go.” Rick’s face became serious, and Daryl lowered his menu.

“I’m on that,” Rick leaned forward “I’m the sheriff here, Daryl, if Merle don’t think I have eyes everywhere too, then he isn’t as smart as we think.” Daryl huffed a short, sharp, humourless laugh

“Oh, he’s smart alright. Ya don’t know ‘im, all ya got is words on paper.” He shrugged his shoulders, unsure how to make it clear to Rick that he was probably biting off more than he could chew. He’d managed to pull the wool over Daryl’s eyes, Merle was more dangerous than anyone thought. He still thought he and Rick would be better apart, safer at least. He huffed a sigh and put his menu down. “Look, maybe we shouldn’t do this.” He paused, chewed on his lip. “I don’t want nothin’ to happen to ya. Ya‘ve been so good to me these few days, n, I think,” he stopped again. Curled the corner of his menu in his fingers “under different circumstances this could’a been somethin’ good.” He leant back in the wooden chair, it created under his back. “But I don’t want ya to get hurt cause’a me.” He felt his face turning pink, and hated it. Being so open was hard work, even for Rick, who now looked at him very squarely, and very seriously. Finally the playful smile was gone, and Rick’s sky blue eyes, normally so light and sparkling like diamonds, darkened a little.

“Leave the worrying to me, Daryl. I’m not going to let anyone come between us.” He cleared his throat and leaned backwards in his seat, mimicking Daryl. “I’m a cop. I know how to play his game, ok?” Daryl shrugged and nodded at the same time, not actually sure if it was ok, but he sure wanted it to be. He wanted Merle safe, but safe a hundred miles away would be about perfect. Somewhere Daryl could get to him on Birthdays and thanksgiving, but far enough away that he felt safe hanging out with Rick, and not having to resort to far too bright cafes.

* * *

What Daryl didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, but Rick realised he had to shove the smugness off to one side. He had intelligence on Merle that he hadn’t shared with Daryl. The conversation on the phone earlier that morning had been a good one, although mostly one sided. Merle was being followed, as they lie in bed that morning, Merle was outside watching the apartment from an alley, and above that alley Merle was being watched from an abandoned apartment. He and Daryl were safe, but Daryl would likely take unkindly to his brother being watched so closely.

He sat there, waiting for a waitress and a phone call.

The waitress came first, a pretty blonde, all smiles.

“Rick!” She cried on seeing him. Rick noticed Daryl’s eyebrows shoot up on his forehead. “Can I get ya the usual, Officer Grimes?” She asked in a very sweet country accent. Rick smiled, nodded, watching Daryl hiding again behind his menu.

“Daryl?” He asked, but Daryl didn’t answer. “Get him the same, Bethy, please.” He watched as Beth scampered away, eager to please.

“Why’d ya do that?” Daryl asked, and Rick shrugged.

“Looked like you couldn’t decide.”

“I can choose my own damn breakfast.” Daryl stood from the table, walking away in a huff. Rick reminded himself he had to reign in the cocky. It wasn’t about to get him too far. He watched Daryl retreat to the restroom, wondering about what the man had said. That they could have something good.

Rick hoped so, he hoped that Merle wouldn’t come between them, that they could get to know each other a whole lot better. He thought over the night before, how Daryl had happily given him the reigns, let him take control. How they screwed face to face even though it was the first time, Daryl surprisingly limber, his own knees against his chest, eyes boring into Rick’s.

Rick sighed to himself, it could all be too good to be true, but he’d never felt so comfortable with anyone. He’d almost forgotten about Shane.

That wasn’t true, but Daryl had really taken his mind away from his loss, in the right place at the right time. Why did it always happen this way? He thought to himself, why couldn’t it just be easy? You meet the one and you fall in love, it sounded so damn simple.

But fairytales didn’t happen to real people. Real people had to deal with the Merle’s of the world, and the pain of loss, and slamming the two together became more like a horror story.

* * *

 

Daryl splashed cold water on his face. Even the lavatory was better than he was used to. Clean. A sign above the sink that said ‘now wash your hands’ without an ounce of irony, and not a single piece of graffiti in sight. It made his blood run cold, it was so novel to him. Bright lights that didn’t buzz and chatter above his head, like angry flies, lit his face and he saw the heavy bags beneath his eyes. He looked like hell, and wondered briefly why Rick didn’t seem worse for wear. He’d lost his best friend, they’d been friends for years, him and his partner. They discussed it the night before, shit they’d discussed almost everything the night before.

He remembered Rick kissing his scars and newer bruises gently, promising that no one would hurt him that way again, and fuck, he’d wanted to cry.

He watched as water droplets collected in, and fell from, the scruff of hair on his chin. He’d never had a night like it, and goddamnit he probably never would again. Sure, he’d settled on the fact that he was going to be torn from Rick’s arms at some point. Knowing when would be helpful. He rubbed his hands across his face, flinging the last of the water into the sink, and turned to leave when he heard a hiss at the small open window.

“Psssst” he turned ever so slowly. He was barely surprised to see Merle looking in at him. “Y’ok, li’l brother?” Daryl snorted softly.

“D’ya even care?” He asked, shrugging one shoulder gently and shaking his head. Merle’s face was a picture of disbelief.

“A’course I care, only one who ever did!” He rolled his eyes “what that asshole brown pants been sayin’ to ya? Huh? He tellin’ ya I don’t care? I care, Daryl. I been protectin’ ya this whole time.” He sucked at his teeth with a whistle and Daryl shook his head, flapping a hand at his brother.

“Ain’t talkin’ to ya through a damn window, man, what is this?” Merle laughed, but Daryl turned square to him again as Merle spoke

“Ol’ sheriff brown pants don’t care about ya, he’s usin’ ya, tryin’ to get to me:-“

“Ya know ya bein’ watched?” Daryl cut him off aggressively. “Ya know what ya caused? Ya gonna get yaself killed. Get outta here.”

“Hey!” Merle cut him off. “Who ya think ya talkin’ to?” Daryl huffed a humourless laugh

“I don’t even know anymore, who am I talkin’ to right now? Merle, my brother, or the governor?” Daryl felt bad for the instant gratification he got from seeing Merle’s face drop.

“Ain’t like that, man, it ain’t. C’mon, it’s me, it’s always been me, n it still is. Don’t matter who I am or who I ain’t. I’m ya brother. I’m the only one who cares about you.” Daryl shook his head again, wiped his still damp hands on a paper towel and threw it at the window.

“Get outta here, Merle. Jus’ go.” He walked out of the bathroom without looking back.

* * *

 

Merle watched him go and slinked back from the window.

Did he know he was being watched? He grinned.

“A’course I know!” He yelled into the air, holding his arms out to his sides, the left one just a nub. “What ya gonna do? Can’t shoot me, can’t hurt me, I’m jus’ lookin’ out for my brother!” He laughed to himself, dropping his arms and shaking his head with a smile. Did he know he was being watched... who did Daryl think he was?

* * *

 

Rick tried not to scowl at Daryl as he headed back for their table, his large plate of pancakes going cold as he sauntered so beautifully across the cafe.

“You Ok?” He asked, not daring to mention how long he’d been, not wanting Daryl to think he’d been unduly worried, thinking Daryl had snuck out of the window like a groom with cold feet. He didn’t think Daryl needed to know that he’d almost followed him, looking at his watch as the seconds became minutes. All he got in return was a cursory nod, and a soft grunt as Daryl tucked into the pancakes like he was ravenous, but his eyes were everywhere and all at once. It put Rick on edge enough that he didn’t enjoy his own breakfast, his favourite breakfast.

Shane used to complain about Lori’s god awful pancakes, and the memory was enough to have him pushing his plate away.

“Y’ain’t hungry?” Daryl asked him, eyeing the plate still half full before looking around the room again, lingering a moment at one window. Rick shook his head. No. Not anymore.

“What’s going on Daryl?” He asked quietly, knowing something was up. He would have guessed it was a random call from his brother, if Daryl hadn’t already smashed up his phone. Rick narrowed his eyes, waiting for some semblance of a reply, and when nothing came he was hardly surprised, but also pretty pissed. He’d invested a lot of time and emotion into this guy.

“You’re not gonna talk to me?” He asked, trying to keep his voice calm. He can’t have succeeded, Daryl looked up with wide eyes.

“I’m jus’ eatin’” he said, all feigned innocence. Rick scratched at the stubble that was starting to peek through on his chin.

“What happened in that restroom?” Rick tried to reign it in, tried to keep his voice level and calm. His phone call hadn’t come through yet, and he was anxious. Had they been followed? Had Daryl seen something to put him so on edge?

“I don’t belong here.” Daryl said, finally putting down his fork noisily on his empty plate. Rick felt his features soften.

“No one’s judging you.” He said gently. As far as Rick was concerned, the most judgmental people were the ones Daryl was used to being with, not the other way around. “I don’t know what your brother used to tell you, but you have as much right to be here as anyone else.” Daryl sat back in his chair.

“Ain’t what I mean.” He said, clearly offended. Rick wondered how he kept managing to put his foot in his mouth. “Ya’ll are cops. I don’t belong here. Why’s it always gotta be about Merle? You don’t know ‘im. Y’only got what’s written down by other people like you.” Rick startled at that.

“People like me?” Daryl stood and looked down on Rick, making him feel small and vulnerable.

“Cops.” Daryl said simply. “I thought ya were different, but Y’ain’t.” He turned away from the table “thanks for breakfast, see ya ‘round.” He mumbled over his shoulder, and feeling helpless, Rick just watched him go. Moments later the cell in his pocket vibrated, and he grabbed it quick and shoved it to his ear.

“Save it,” He said venomously, “I’m coming in.”

* * *

 

Daryl felt the light breeze hit his face as soon as he was outside. It was freeing, storming off that way, he was feeling tied to Rick in a way perhaps he shouldn’t have, like he owed him. He didn’t owe him shit. Didn’t stop the hot tears in his eyes though, which he scrubbed at aggressively before heading back to the parking lot where he’d stashed his bike.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, head down, and tried not to be seen by anyone. Last thing he wanted right then was to bump in to Merle, or even worse one of his cronies.

He wasn’t sure where he would go. Home wasn’t an option, or shouldn’t have been, but the bar wasn’t open yet, and anyone worth hanging out with was at work.

His ribs were still sore, each step vibrating his bones painfully. He sighed gently to himself, turning the corner at the garage, he’d decided the only place for him was home, where he truly belonged.

*****

Merle was waiting for him. Sat in daddy’s old ratty armchair, a mocking smile on his face as Daryl threw the door to the shack open.

“Welcome home,” He said darkly “baby brother.”


	11. Chapter 11

Daryl strode into the shack and slammed the door behind him. He contemplated Merle a long and silent moment before heading for their dirty stinking bathroom, hoping to have a shower. Suddenly the trailer seemed too small, too enclosed, and as soon as he walked in he wanted out. 

He ran the shower, and watched in the filthy mirror as his face disappeared as the room filled with steam. He heard a gentle knock on the door, the tap tap of Merle's arm cuff he used sometimes. He ignored it and began to undress, taking in the bruises and new scars from the fight they'd had, or rather the beating he'd laid down and taken. Thanks to Daddy he knew how to take a punch. He sighed, pained, as he lifted his shirt over his head, the stretching pulling at his ribs he was sure were busted. He'd never forgive Merle for that, for standing there as he and his buddies beat on him, and what for? Falling into bed with a cop. 

The tap came again.

"I ain't ready to speak to ya." Daryl said through the thin wood of the door, "Not yet, lemme take a damn shower in peace." Merle seemed to relent, and Daryl was able to shower in relative quiet. He stood under the burning water for a long time, just stood as it pricked his neck with its biting droplets. 

What was he doing, he asked himself silently. _Why have I come back here?_ He really thought he and Rick could have been good together, but the need to know exactly how dangerous Merle was, how violent and how different to the brother he thought he knew, was too much to resist. In reality he wanted answers, and the only one he could possibly get them from was Merle. 

He switched off the shower, mourning the loss of a relationship that could never even have been, and dried roughly with his stinking towel. He was ready to talk now, he knew what he wanted to know, even if Merle lied, Daryl could always tell. HE could make up his mind about Rick after that, but family had to come first. Blood.

"Ya think ya c'n jus' come crawlin' back here, after what ya did to me?" Merle asked quietly as Daryl re entered what stood for the lounge. Daryl snorted quietly.

"What I did to _you_?" He asked, incredulous. "Ya gotta sack on you ain't ya, comin' back here after what _you_ did." Merle got up from Daddy's chair - even after all these years that would be daddy's chair - and turned to face Daryl with a rare straight face. 

"This is my home" He said "Ya get me locked up n I'm the one with balls. Shit we already knew that." Daryl scoffed again, but Merle wasn't finished. 

"I din't get ya locked up," Daryl pointed at his older brother firmly, accentuating his words "You did that, not me. How could ya lie to me all these years, Merle?"

"I din't kill nobody, Dare, I din't kill nobody. But that was all they had on me. That din't work to keep me in so Officer Brown Pants gets to me through you." Merle paused, studying daryl's face. Daryl forced himself not to turn away, he didn't want to show Merle any such weakness. "I tol' ya, time n again, he's using ya." Daryl shook his head

"No."

"Yes!" Merle roared. "They need to bring me in but they got nothin' on me! They're usin' ya to find shit out"

"Man," Daryl crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, shaking his head "Rick ain't even workin', let alone on your case. He took leave 'cause his partner got shot n died in his arms." There was a long silence between them as they glared at eachother, a stand off neither man was willing to lose.

"Are ya the Governor?" Daryl asked eventually, and Merle sighed, sinking back into daddy's chair.

"Yeah." he said simply. Daryl wasn't expecting that. He expected the lie, and he stared down at Merle's profile for a long silent moment. What he knew of the governor was nothing good. Murder, drugs, arms deals, were all things that ran through Daryl's head when he tried to recall what he did know. Rumours and myths and legends that were told throughtout their little woodside community. Kids feared the governor, or held him up as an idol. He was the stuff of dreams and nightmares, and he was Daryl Dixon's own brother.

"Why?" Daryl asked, and Merle shrugged softly, a small shake of his head. 

"Needed money. Needed to get out. Get away from Daddy, away from here." Daryl snorted.

"N Here y'are in daddy's chair" Merle laughed humourlessly. 

"Here I am." he concurred. "Don't change the fact that I need ya to not go swingin' from the chandeliers with that Sheriff Brown pants no more" Daryl shrugged and folded his arms again.

"Ya can't stop me. What y'are, or what y'ain't, has no bearin' on who I'm sharin' a bed with." He wasn't planning to run back to Rick anymore anyhow. The fact that Merle had been honest with him for once in his life had changed something inside his head, flipped a switch, and he wanted to stay. It didn't change the fact that he was angry at Merle for beating on him, for following him, but if he hadn't been who he was, the Governor, the Legend, he never would have met Rick. Even if he never saw Rick again, he was glad he had known him, and had known true kindness and comfort for once. 

The thought made him feel very sad, and he pulled his cigarettes from his back pocket, lighting one for himself and tossing the carton at Merle. MErle looked up with a grateful smile, and Daryl though perhaps he would be ok here. 

* * *

 

Rick sat at his desk in his glass fronted office and read through the paperwork that had begun to pile up in his absence.

Michonne sat opposite him, his new deputy, with her legs crossed and her hands linked together on the desk in front of her.

“Why are you here?” She asked seriously, and Rick flicked his eyes up at her, said nothing, and flicked them back to the report he was reading.

“Lack of evidence.” He said, placing the report carefully back in the buff folder it came out of. He leaned back in his chair, knitting his hands together. Michonne nodded

“Nothing solid, Nothing we could keep him for.” Rick leaned forward again, over the desk.

“The arms run, the drugs? He supplied the guns that got Shane killed!” He didn’t shout, there was no need for that, but his voice was hissing, like an angry cat. Michonne shook her head sadly.

“Everything we found, his lawyer had an answer for. We checked him out, Simon Holt, he was at law school while the rest of the boys were at Helmand. They’d thought this through. All of it. There was nothing we could flatly pin on Dixon, so our best effort was getting bail so damn high, but even that fell through.” Rick nodded, frustrated.

“Right, but what about private ops? Andrea Harrison was undercover for years, she led the arrests. Nothing there?” Michonne snorted softly, her face humourless.

“That crazy bitch was discharged from her own investigation. She wasn’t supposed to sleep with him. Whole case was thrown out.” Rick rolled his eyes and huffed a frustrated sigh.

“So we have nothing? At all?” Michonne shrugged. “He beat his own brother to a pulp.”

“Sorry boss. Unless Daryl comes forward...” she paused, contemplating Rick very steadily before continuing. “We’re keeping tabs on him, the minute he fucks up we’ll be coming down on him like a tonne of bricks” she went to stand. “I know you’ve been seeing his brother. I have to say that’s probably not the best idea.” Michonne cut herself off, thinking she’d spoken out of turn. “Sorry, Rick.” She said again, turning to leave. 

“You’re right.” Rick called after her as her hand reached the door handle. She stopped, but didn’t turn. “Don’t let that cloud your judgement. I’m not.” Michonne appeared to think about that before she gave him a nod, still facing away, and left his office. 

Rick leaned back on his chair and blew a harsh puff of air out through his mouth. Nothing. They had nothing. How could that be? He linked his hands behind his head and rubbed them back and forth. There must be something, he thought, there must be some way to get that bastard to pay for what he did, if not to Shane, at least to Daryl. 

 

* * *

 

Daryl stared at the bills Merle held out to him with disdain.

“Ain’t ya whore.” He spat, whacking Merle’s arm away violently. “I make my own money.” Merle clicked his tongue,

“I saw ya cell, dick, I know Y’ain’t gonna get paid for bein’ off work today. Go get yaself a phone. C’n pay me back if ya like.” He held the money out again, and Daryl glared at it before snatching it from Merle’s outstretched hand, counting it, and shoving it in his back pocket. He didn’t say thank you, just gave Merle a nod. It was enough fokr them, he didn’t have to put on any airs and graces here. Another mark in being at home’s favour. Merle gave him a nod right back. “Go on now, Daryl, Merle’s got Work to do.” Daryl narrowed his eyes, unsure what Merle could possibly be thinking of, ‘working’ from Home, after being jailed overnight, was possibly the stupidest idea he’d ever come up with.

“Ya think that’s wise, now?” Merle grinned.

“‘S good a time as any. Don’t worry ya purty head ‘bout me, ya c’n either go get a new cellphone, or ya c’n sit here n get involved.” He laughed humourlessly “I know ya don’ wanna get involved.” Daryl narrowed his eyes again.

“Ya don’t know shit, n don’t act like ya do. Ya knew anythin’ at all ya wouldn’a got yaself caught.” He sighed. “Fuck this, I’m outta here. I don’ wanna find any of ya boys here when I get back. N I don’t wanna know what ya gettin’ up to behind my back.” He levelled a glare at Merle before turning and leaving, with the money Merle had given him he could get a cheap cell, fill the bike with gas, and go for a long ride. Shit, if he went to see Dwight he could have a phone for less than 20 bucks in about half hour. He started the bike, kicking it over aggressively, studying the area casually wondering if he was also being watched.

If he got a cheap cell from Dwight was he any better than Merle? He snorted to himself and rolled his eyes, popping the gear lever into first with his foot and heading away from home, so his brother could do what he would. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, and being away from it all meant there was no direct association. It was the best he could hope for. He wondered what Rick was up to, if he resented Daryl for walking out on him, if he was at home or if he’d had errands to run. He felt shit for storming out on him, especially after everything Rick had done for him, but Merle’s words kept ringing in his head, unable to be drowned out by the bike’s engine beneath him. Rick was using him to get to Merle. In a way it made sense, in the world as Daryl knew it made the most sense, but Rick lived in a different world. A world where giving didn’t precede taking, where the law was something to be followed and not broken. Where lessons could be taught without fists, and without harsh words.

That wasn’t Daryl’s world, Dixons belonged in the harsher reality, it was just how it was. The fact the two worlds had collided was only because they were so very different in the first place. With that decided he turned the bike towards Calhoun, hoping to catch Dwight at work, because a cheap cell was a cheap cell, and it wasn’t everyday that Daryl Dixon had $150 to spare.

*****

Daryl glared at Martinez, confused.

“What D’ya mean he ain’t here?” He asked, knowing full well what must have happened. He wasn’t stupid, shit maybe he was, why else would he be standing here gormless, staring at Martinez as if he was hiding Dwight.

“He quit. First thing. Didn’t even turn up, the pussy phoned it through.” Not Dwight, Daryl thought to himself, not him too. He was the one guy in Merle’s group of friends Daryl thought he could count on to remain at least a little grounded. This whole thing was turning into an AMC crime drama, It was hard to believe any of it was real.

He left the auto shop with his hands deep in his pockets again, he kicked a discarded coke can across the floor, only looking up when the rattle aluminium on asphalt stopped far too sharply. He half expected to see Dwight before him, but he’d know that scuffed cowboy boot anywhere.

“Daryl.” Rick drawled, and the way Rick said his name had his heart speeding up, but he refused to let it show.

“Ain’t this outside your jurisdiction?” Daryl answered, a lot harder than he meant to, without looking up. Still Merle’s words niggled at his brain. Was he being used? Clearly he was being followed.

“Well maybe I came looking for you.” At least he didn’t deny it. Daryl looked up slowly, surprised to see the pressed brown pants and beige shirt of a sheriff on duty.

“Ya went back to work?” He’d been distraught by Shane’s death, torn all up into pieces.

“Finding Shane’s killer is my greatest priority. Not for me, this isn’t about me, Daryl.” Daryl dared to glance up to Rick’s face, and instantly wished he hadn’t. The other man’s bright and piercing blue eyes almost had him staggering backwards, they burned into him with a fire that threw fear into Daryl’s heart.

“This about Merle?” Rick shook his head gently.

“I gotta skip town.” He said carefully. “Go a ways away. For a while.” Rick spoke like he might mean forever. Daryl felt his face carefully crease into a frown. Stunned that one night with one man could have him feeling the way he did, and also angry at Rick for tearing down his walls and now threatening to break his heart.

“Why?” He heard himself from far away, like through water, that felt right, like he was drowning. Rick levelled his gaze at Daryl and took a deep breath to explain.

* * *

 

 But he couldn’t do it. He closed his eyes and rubbed one gently with his finger to buy time, force himself to tell Daryl that Merle’s phone had been bugged, and the apartment too. He didn’t have the guts to tell Daryl that he was running away, in the purest sense, because Merle was planning to kill him. He sighed, looking at Daryl finally, who waited patiently, if grim faced, for an answer. But Rick couldn’t give him one.

“I have to go.” He said eventually and at length. “Take care of yourself, Daryl.” He turned to leave, not knowing if he’d ever see Daryl again. It hurt, but it was in Daryl’s interest as well as his own. Daryl didn’t need to be caught in the cross fire, and Lori had agreed anti bring the kids to Rick on occasion, he couldn’t die and leave Judith and Carl with no one at all. He couldn’t let that happen.

“Rick.” Daryl growled behind him, and he took a moment before he turned, took a breath and prepared himself for a barrage of harsh words and cruel inferences.  
It didn’t come. He turned slowly and Daryl was in him in an instant, his mouth warm and strong against Rick’s, his hands on Rick’s chin, so soft and so gentle. Daryl kept his eyes open, Rick noticed, and it made the kiss all the more intense to look into those dark denim eyes.

Daryl pulled away, And Rick immediately felt the loss of his presence, missed him, and felt empty.

Why did it have to be this way?

“I think I could have loved you.” Daryl said softly, cheeks pinking slightly, as he avoided Rick’s eyes. Rick swallowed, and nodded slightly, unsure how to reply to such sincerity. He took a step toward Daryl on unsteady legs, but Daryl moved a step back. “Go,” he whispered, “while ya still can.” Rick wanted to argue, to tell Daryl it wasn’t forever, just for now, but he fumbled the words, and couldn’t get them out.

Pain spread through his chest, and he suddenly felt winded. A burning started in his heart, and he watched as Daryl’s face changed from sad acceptance to sheer horror.

Daryl might have been yelling, but Rick only heard Merle from behind him.

“There! I never killed no damn deputy prick, but I killed ya sheriff!” And laughing, laughing rang out.

“No!” Daryl screamed, and now he was darting forward.

The edges of Rick’s vision began to blur, and then fade, and all he could think was that it was like the song. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.  
> This was so fun to write.  
> I've never written AU before, I've never written any kind of crime drama before.  
> so please forgive me for that part being a bit pants.  
> Also, as I'm sure you're aware, much artistic licence was used to bend things how I needed them. I know Hershel was not a veteran but a veterinarian, and I know Merle isn't actually so bad as I've made him here.  
> Thanks again to the RWG for pushing me out of my comfort zone, even if they didn't know it.


End file.
